The adventures of Telemachus, the son of Ulysses translated from the French.

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES. PART. IV. (Book 4)

BUT while they were thus lay∣ing down the most probable Means to keep their Youth Chaste, Innocent, Laborious, Tractable, and

Ambitious of Renown; Philocles, who chiefly delighted in War, said to Mentor, In vain do you employ Youth in all those Exercises, if you suffer them to languish in continual Peace; where they shall neither have Experience in War, nor occa∣sion to shew their Valour; by this, you will insensibly weaken the Na∣tion, and soften their Courage: Plea∣sures will corrupt their Manners, and other warlike Nations will find it no hard matter to vanquish them; and by endeavouring to shun the E∣vils of War, they will fall into a miserable Servitude.

Mentor reply'd, The Evils of War never fail to drain a Nation, and put it in danger of Ruin, even while it is most victorious: With how great advantage soever they begin it; they are never sure to end it, without being exposed to the most tragical Chances of Fortune. Sup∣pose you engage with never so great a superiority of Force; the smallest

Mistake, a panick Fear, a Nothing, snatches away the Victory that was already in your Hands, and puts it into those of your Enemies: And tho' you should hold Victory chain'd in your Camp, you destroy your Self in destroying your Enemies. You dis-people your Country, leave your Ground uncultivated, interrupt Commerce; nay, which is far worse, you weaken your Laws, and suffer Manners to be corrupted. The Youth do not any more apply them∣selves to Learning; pressing Wants make you give Way to a pernicious Licentiousness among your Troops; Justice, good Order, every-thing suffers in this Confusion. A King who spills the Blood of so mony Men, and is the Cause of so many Miseries to acquire a little Glory, or to extend the Limits of his King∣dom, is unworthy of the Glory he hunts after, and deserves to lose that which he possesses, by endeavouring to Usurp what belongs to another.

But after this manner you must exercise the Courage of a Nation in time of Peace. You have already seen the Exercises of the Body that we have Established; the Prize that excites Emulation, the Maxims of Honour and Virtue, with which we season the Minds of Children, al∣most from their Cradle, by Songs full of the great Actions of Heroes; add to those Aids that of a sober and laborious Life. But this is not all: As soon as any of your Allies shall be in War, you must send thither the flower of your Youth, chiefly those in whom you shall observe a War-like Genius, and who are the most likely to profit by Experience: By this means, you shall preserve a high Esteem amongst your Allies; your Friendship shall be Courted, and they shall be afraid to lose it: And without having a War at Home, and at your own Charge, you shall al∣ways be provided with a Martial and intrepid Youth. And altho' you

your selves enjoy Peace, cease not to treat respectfully those that are Ma∣sters of the Art of War; for the true way to avoid it, and preserve a la∣sting Peace, is to Cultivate Arms, to Honour Men excellent in that Profession, and to entertain those that are train'd up to it in Foreign Parts, and who know the Force, Discipline, and manner of War in Neighbouring Countries. You shall be equally uncapable of making War to gratify your Ambition, and of being afraid of it through Effemina∣cy: And being in a readiness to un∣dertake it when Necessity obliges, you can easily find means to prevent it. When your Allies make War upon one another, 'twill be your part to become Mediator: And thus you will acquire a Glory far more solid and sure than that of the Con∣querors. You shall gain the Love and Esteem of Strangers, they will all of them stand in need of you; you will strengthen your Authority over

your Subjects: You shall become the Confident of their Secrets, the Umpire of Treatises, and Master of their Affections. Your Fame shall fly through the most distant Coun∣tries, and your Name shall be like a most delicious Perfume, that diffuses it self far and wide. In such a hap∣py State, let a Neighbouring People unjustly attack you, they shall al∣ways find you ready to receive them: And what strengthens you still more, they shall find you beloved by all, and succour'd by your Neighbours, who will chearfully Arm themselves for you; being fully perswaded, that the publick Security depends on the Preservation of you. This is a Rampart more secure than the strongest Walls, and most regular Fortifications. This is true Glo∣ry.

But how few Kings are there that pursue it? nay rather, how few are there that don't avoid it? They run after a deceitful Shadow, and leave

true Honour behind them, because they do not know it. Mentor ha∣ving thus spoke, Philocles look'd up∣on him with Astonishment; then cast his Eyes on the King: He was charm'd to see how greedily Idome∣neus suckt into his very Soul, the Stream of Wisdom which flow'd from the Mouth of that Stranger. Minerva, in the Shape of Mentor, did thus establish in Salentum, the best Laws, and most useful Maxims of Government; not so much for the Prosperity of the Kingdom of Idome∣neus, as to give Telemachus a sen∣sible Example of what a Wise Go∣vernment may do, to make People Happy, and to secure to a good King a lasting Reputation

In the mean time, Telemachus gave Proof of his Courage in the Perils of War: And parting from Salentum, made it his chief care to gain the Af∣fection of the Old Captains, who were Men of tried Experience, and established Reputation. Nestor, who

had formerly seen him at Pylos, and had always loved Ulysses, treated him as his own Son: He gave him In∣structions, enforc'd with divers Illu∣strious Examples: He related to him the Adventures of his Youth, and the most remarkable things he had seen performed by the Hero's of the last Age. The Memory of this sage Old Man, who had now seen Three Ages, resembled an History of Ancient Times, deeply engraved on lasting Marble or Brass. Philo∣ctetes, at first, had not the same Af∣fection for Telemachus; the inveterate Hatred which he bore in his Heart against Ulysses, gave him an Aver∣sion to his Son; and it was some uneasiness to perceive how much this Youth seem'd to be the Darling of the Gods, who design'd to make him equal to those Hero's which had laid Troy in Ashes: But the obliging Behaviour of Telemachus, soon over∣came the Resentments of Philoctetes, and irresistibly forc'd him to love

one who was possess'd with so much Sweetness and Modesty. He often took Telemachus in his Arms, and said to him: My Son, (for I cannot henceforth forbear calling you so) I must own, your Father and I did bear a mutual Hatred, for a long time against one another; and even after we had brought proud Troy to its fatal Period, my Anger was not asswag'd; and though at first sight, I found it hard for me to love you; yet that Sweet and Innocent Virtue, and unaffected Modesty with which you are endued, are not to be re∣sisted. Afterwards Philoctetes told him that he would relate to him what it was that had first kindled his Ha∣tred against Ulysses.

To begin, says he, my Story a little higher; I accompanied in all his Travels, the great Hercules, who deliver'd the Earth from so many Monsters; who in respect of other Hero's, was as the lofty Oak amidst the tender Roses, or the Eagle a∣mong

the little Birds. Both that Hero's Misfortunes and my own, proceeded from a Passion which is the Cause of the most terrible. Dis∣asters, Unhappy Love. Hercules was subdued by that shameful Passi∣on, and became the Spirit of the cruel Boy, Cupid. He could not re∣member, without Blushing, that for∣merly forgetting all his Glory, he had been brought even to handle the Distaff with Omphale, Queen of Ly∣dia, as if he had been the Weakest and most Effeminate of all Men. While he was under the Dominion of his blind Passion, a Hundred times has he owned to me, that this Action had quite tainted his Virtue, and almost defaced the Glo∣ry of all his Labours. Nevertheless he was caught a second time in the very same Snares that he so much studied to avoid. Had he been con∣stant, he was once too happy in the love of Deianira, his Wife; but too soon the Youth of Iola, in whose

Face the Graces themselves were painted, did rob him of his Heart. Deianira, burning with Jealousie, be∣thought her of the fatal Garment that the Centaur Nessus had left her at his Death, as an infallible way to awaken the Affection of Hercules, when he seem'd to neglect her, and love another. But alass! this Gar∣ment was full of the venomous Blood of the Centaur, and of the Darts which had pierc'd him; for you know that the Arrows with which Hercules kill'd the perfidious Monster, had been dipp'd in the Blood of the Hydra of Lerna, whence they had drawn so strong a Poison, that the Wounds they gave were incurable.

Hercules having put on this Coat, was quickly sensible of the devouring Fire which penetrated into the Mar∣row of his Bones. Mount Oeta shook, and the deepest Valleys re∣sounded; the Sea it self seemed trou∣bled at his Groans; which far sur∣pass'd the Bellowings of the most

furious Bulls, in their dreadful Com∣bats. The unhappy Lychas, who had brought him the Garment from Dej∣anira, venturing to approach him; Hercules in the extremity of his Pain, whirl'd him round, as one does a Stone in a Sling, which he is to throw a great distance.

So Lychas being darted from the top of the Mountain by the powerful Arm of Hercules, fell amongst the Waves of the Sea, where he was im∣mediately chang'd into a Rock, which still retains its Humane shape, and against which the angry Billows beating, frighten from afar the wa∣ry Pilot. After the Misfortune of Lychas, I judg'd it not safe to trust my self to Hercules: I began to think now of hiding my self in the deepest Caverns of the Earth: I ob∣serv'd how easily with one hand he pluck'd up by the Roots the lofty Firs, and firm-rooted Oaks; which so many Years had despis'd the most impetuous Storms; and with the o∣ther,

how he endeavour'd to pull off the fatal Garment; but to no pur∣pose; for it was glu'd to his Skin, and as it were, incorporated with his Members, and whilst he rent it, he tore his Flesh: His Blood flow'd in Streams, and moisten'd the Earth; till at last his Vertue overcoming his Pain, he cry'd out, Thou seest, my dear Philoctetes, the Evils which the Gods inflict upon me! they are the just punishment of my Offences: I have violated my Conjugal Love: After having subdu'd so many Ene∣mies, I have basely suffer'd my self to be overcome by the Love of a beautiful Stranger: I perish, and am pleas'd that my Ruin will appease the Wrath of the Gods. But alas! my dear Friend, whither dost thou fly? 'Tis true, the extremity of my Pain has made me commit an Act of Cruelty upon the unhappy Lychas, for which I abhor my self. He was ignorant of the Poison which he brought me, and therefore did not

deserve what he suffer'd: But couldst thou believe that I should forget the Friendship I owe thee, or that I would take away thy Life? No sure, I shall never cease to love Phi∣loctetes: I will breath into his Bo∣som, my departing Soul, and he shall gather my Ashes. Where art thou, then my dear Philoctetes, thou only Hope that is left me here below? At these words I ran towards him, whilst he held out his Arms to em∣brace me; but he drew them back, for fear he should kindle in my Breast the same raging Flame, with which himself was burnt up. Alas! says he, I dare not embrace thee; the last Consolation is denied me. While he thus spoke, he gather'd to∣gether the Trees that he had pluck'd up, and erected them into a Fune∣ral Pile, upon the top of the Moun∣tain, which he calmly ascended; he spreads the Skin of the Nemean Lyon, which had so long serv'd him for a Mantle, whilst he travel'd

from one end of the Earth to the other, to destroy Monsters, and free the Unfortunate: And leaning up∣on his Club, he desired me to set Fire to the Pile. My trembling Hand could not refuse him this cruel Piece of Service; for his Life was now so miserable, that it could not any more be reckoned the Gift of the Gods: Yea, I was not even with∣out Apprehension, but the excess of his Pain might transport him to do some Action unworthy of that Vir∣tue which had been hitherto the Admiration of all the World. When he saw the Flame begin to Catch, he cry'd out, Now it is, my dear Philoctetes, that thou hast given me a Proof of thy sincere Friendship; for thou lov'st my Honour more than my Life, and may the Gods reward thee. I bequeath thee what I have most valuable on Earth; These Arrows which were dip'd in the Blood of the Hydra of Lerna: Thou know'st that the Wounds they

give are incurable; by these thou shalt be invincible, as I have been; nor shall any Mortal ever dare to encounter thee. Remember I Die thy faithful Friend; and if thou art mov'd at my Misfortunes, thou mayst give me the last Consolation, by promising never to discover my Death, nor the Place where thou hidest my Ashes. I promised him, yea swore it. Whilst I water'd the funeral Pile with my Tears, a Beam of Joy appear'd darting from his Eyes; but on a sudden he was involv'd in a tour∣ing Flame, which stifled his Voice, and rob'd me of the Sight of him: Afterwards I saw him through the Flames, amidst which he appear'd with a Countenance as serene, as if it had been crown'd with Garlands, and cover'd with delicious and festi∣val Perfumes in the Company of his Friends. The Fire quickly consumed all that in him was earthly and mor∣tal; so that there remained nothing

of what he had received in his Birth from his Mother Alcmena; but by the command of Jupiter, it left un∣touch'd that subtile and immortal Substance, that celestial Flame, which is the true Principle of Life, and which he had receiv'd from the Father of the Gods; with whom he walk'd along under the gilded Arches of the glittering Olympus, to drink Nectar: Where they gave him to Wife the lovely Hebe, the Goddess of Youth, who used to fill Nectar to Jupiter, before Ganimede was promoted to that Honour. As for the Arrows he left me, with a Design to raise me above all the Hero's, they have been an inexhau∣stible Fountain of Mischief; for shortly after this, the confederated Kings had undertaken to revenge Menelaus upon the infamous Paris, for the Rape of Helena; and to over∣turn the Empire of Priamus. They were inform'd by the Oracle of Apol∣lo, that they were not to expect a

happy Issue of the War, unless they got the Arrows of Hercules. Ulysses, your Father, who was always the most clear sighted and industrious in the Management of all their De∣signs, took upon him to persuade me to go along with them to the Siege of Troy, and to bring along with me those Arrows, which he believed were in my Possession. 'Twas now a long time since Her∣cules had disappear'd, neither did they talk of any new Exploit of that Hero: Monsters and Villains be∣gan now to shew their Heads; the Greeks were uncertain what to be∣lieve: Some said he was Dead, o∣thers, that he was gone under the Northern Bear, to subdue the Segtes; but Ulysses affirm'd he was Dead, and undertook to make me own it. He found me out, when as yet I could not comfort my self for the loss of the great Alcides: It was not an easy matter to come at me; for I could not any more endure the

Company of Mankind: I would not suffer my self to be torn from the Desarts of Mount Oeta, where I had beheld the last Fate of my dear Friend: There I entertained my self with the Image of that Hero, which was so deeply imprint'd on my Mind, and with Weeping at the sight of that melancholy Place, which had been the last Scene of his Life. But soft and powerful Elo∣quence sat brooding on your Father's Lips; he seem'd almost as much afflicted as my self; he shed Tears; he knew how to gain my Heart in∣sensibly, and engage me to confide in him; he begat in me a concern for the Grecian Kings, who were going to Fight in a just Cause, and whose Success depended on me. Yet he could never tear from my Breast the Secret of the Death of Hercules, which I had sworn never to reveal; but taking it for granted, he press'd me to shew him the Place where I had hid his Ashes. I was seiz'd with

horrour at the Thoughts of such Perjury, in revealing a Secret which I had promised to the Gods to con∣ceal for ever. But what I durst not violate, I was tempted to elude; for which the Gods have punish'd me: I stampt on the Ground with my Foot in the Place where I had hid the Ashes of Hercules. Afterwards I went to join the confederated Kings; who receiv'd me with as much Joy as if I had been Hercules himself. Passing thro' the Isle of Lemnos, I had a mind to shew the Greeks an Experiment of what my Arrows could do, and preparing to pierce a Doe, that was skipping through the Forrest, heedlessly I dropt the Arrow, which lighting on my Foot, gave me a Wound which pains me still. Immediate∣ly I felt the same Torments which Hercules had suffer'd: Night and Day I fill'd the Island with my Groans. Black and corrupted Gore issuing from my Wound, infected

the Air, and spread thro' the Gre∣cian Camp such a Stench as was able to stifle Men of the most vigorous Constitutions. All the Army were seiz'd with Horrour at the sight of me, and concluded that it was a Punishment inflicted on me by the Justice of the Gods. Ulysses, who engaged me in this War, was the first that abandon'd me: I have been inform'd since that he did so, because he prefer'd the common Interest of Greece, and the Victory they so much sought after, to all the Ties of Friend∣ship and private Concerns. It was impossible to Sacrifice in the Camp; so much did the horrour and infection of my Wound, and the loudness of my Groans disturb the whole Ar∣my: But as soon as I found the Greeks had forsook me, and that even by the advice of Ulysses; this Artifice seem'd to me full of the most barbarous Cruelty and black∣est Treachery. Alass, I was blind and did not see that I had deserved

to be hated by wise and good Men, as much as by the Gods, whom I had offended. I continu'd, during this whole Siege of Troy, without help, without hope, or any Thing to ease my Pain: Excessively tor∣mented, in a desert and savage Island, where nothing was to be heard but the noise of Billows breaking upon the Rocks. In this Retirement, I found a hollow Cave within a Rock, which pointed with a double Head towards the Heavens, and afforded a clear and pleasant Spring. This Cave was the usual retreat of wild Beasts, to whose Fury I was expos'd Night and Day: My Bed was of Leaves which I had gather'd toge∣ther: All my Utensils were a Wooden-box, coursely wrought; and some tattered Cloaths, with which I bound up my Wound to stop the Blood, and which I used likewise to clean it: In this Place forsaken of Mankind, and delivered over to the Anger of the Gods, I

spent my solitary Hours in darting the Pigeons and other Birds that flew about the Rock: And when I had kill'd any to satisfie my Hun∣ger, I was forc'd to crawl along the Ground, with extremity of Pain, to take up my Prey, and with my own Hands to dress it at a Fire I had lighted with a Flint; for the Provisions which the Greeks had left me did not last long. This soli∣tary Life, dreadful as 'twas had seem'd pleasant, in so much as it re∣mov'd me from the Company of base and deceitful Mankind, if I had not been quite overcome with the extre∣mity of my Pain, and the continual remembrance of my last sad Ad∣venture. How! said I, to entice a Man from his Native Country, as the only Person that was capable to revenge the Qrarrel of Greece, and then to leave him in a desert Island asleep; for so I was when the Greeks went away. And you may judge of my Surprize when I awak'd,

how I wept when I saw their Fleet plough the Deep! Looking about, on all hands, I found nothing but Sorrow in this horrid and desent Island, where there are neither Harbour, Commerce nor Hospitali∣ty, nor any that land, but who are driven upon it by Storm: You can hope for no Company but by Ship∣wrack; and even such durst not carry me along with them, being afraid both of the Anger of the Gods, and of the Greeks. Thus ten Years did I suffer Pain and Hunger, feeding a Wound which devour'd me; so that Hope it self was quite extinguish'd in my Breast. One day having been in quest of Medicinal Plants for my Wound, on a sudden I perceiv'd in my Cave a young Man, handsome, of a graceful, but haughty Meen, and heroick Stature: Methought I saw Achilles; so much did he resemble him in his Features, Look, and Gate; only the difference of Age made me understand it could

not be he. I obsev'd in his Coun∣tenance both Pity and Confusion: He was mov'd with Compassion to see with what trouble and slowness I crawl'd along: My piercing and doleful Scrieks, which made all the Echo's along the Coast to ring, melted his very Heart. Seeing him at a distance, O Stranger! said I, what Misfortune has brought thee into this Island? I know that Gre∣cian Habit, still so dear to me: O how I long to hear thy Voice, and that Language that drops from thy Lips, which I learn'd in my Child∣hood; and for so long a time never could talk to any in this Desart. Be not afraid at the sight of so mi∣serable a Creature, whom thou ought'st rather to pity.

Neoptolemus had hardly pronoun∣ced these words, I am a Greek, when I cry'd out, O sweet Word, after so many Years of Silence and Sor∣row; O my Son, what Misfortune? What Storm, or rather what favou∣rable

Wind has brought thee hither, to put an end to my Misery? He answer'd, I am of the Island of Sci∣ros, whither I am returning; they say I am the Son of Achilles; thou know'st whether it be so or not.

So short an Account did not sa∣tisfie my Curiosity. O Son, said I, of a Father whom I so much lov'd, the dear Charge of Lycomedes: How camest thou hither, and from whence? He answer'd me, That he came from the Siege of Troy: Thou were not, said I, in the first Expe∣dition. Then, said he, where wert thou? I answer'd him, I see thou art ignorant both of the Name and Misfortunes of Philoctetes: Alass, how unhappy am I, my Persecu∣tors insult over me in my Afflicti∣on! It encreases my Sorrow to think that Greece is ignorant of that which I suffer. The Atrides have brought me into this Condition, and may the Gods repay them. Afterwards I gave him an Account how the

Greeks had left me: As soon as he had heard the Relation of my Mis∣fortunes, he thus began his own. After the death of Achilles, said be, (immediatly I stopt him, What! Achilles dead? Pardon me, my Son, if I interrupt your Relation with the Tears I owe your Father.) Neop∣tolemus answers, In so doing you oblige me: How I am pleas'd to see Philoctetes bewail my Father! and thus he proceeded: After the death of Achilles, Ulysses and Phenix sought me out, assuring me, that without me they could not over∣throw the City of Troy. 'Twas no hard task to persuade me to follow them in this famous War, in which my Grief for the death of Achilles, and a desire to inherit his Glory, did naturally engage me. I no soon∣er arriv'd at the Camp, than the Army gather'd round about me; every one could have swore that he had seen Achilles; but, alass, he was no more: Young and without Ex∣perience,

I could promise my self any thing from those who had be∣stow'd on me such large Commen∣dations. Immediately I demanded of the Atrides my Father's Armour; to which they made me this barba∣rous Reply, Thou shalt have all that belong'd to thy Father, except his Armour, which are destin'd for Ulysses. At this I fell into a most extravagant Passion, my Grief and Anger knew no Bounds; but Ulys∣ses calmly told me, Young Man, thou hast had no share in the Perils of this long Siege, and so cannot deserve such a Reward; thou be∣gin'st too soon to talk haughtily; rest satisfy'd, thou shalt never have the Armour of Achilles. Thus rob'd unjustly by Ulysses, I return'd to the Isle of Sciros, less incens'd a∣gainst him than the Atrides. O Phi∣loctetes, I shall say no more, but may the Gods always befriend their Enemies.

Then I ask'd him, how it came that Telemonian Ajax did not hinder such a Piece of Injustice? He is dead, answer'd he. Dead, said I, and Ulysses lives and prospers! Then I ask'd him News of Antilochus, the Son of sage Nestor, and Patrocles, the Favorite of Achilles; they are dead too, said he. Then I cry'd out, alas, What do'st thou tell me? Cruel War, it seems, mows down the Good and lets the Bad stand: Ulysses lives, and Thersytes likewise, no doubt. Is this the Justice of the Gods? And must we still continue to praise them? Whilest I fell out in this Passion against your Father, Neoptolemus continu'd to deceive me, and added these melancholy Words; I am going, says he, to live contented in the desert Island of Seiros, far from the Grecian Army, where Evil prevails above Good: Adieu, I must be gone, may the Gods restore you your Health. Then said I, O my Son, I conjure you by

the Ghost of your Father, by your Mother, and by all you hold dear∣est in this World, not to leave me alone in this miserable Condition. I am not ignorant how troublesome I shall be; but it will be a shame∣ful thing to forsake me: Tie me to the Prow, or the Stern of your Ship; throw me into the Pump, or where I shall incommode you the least. None but great Souls know the Pleasure of being good; don't leave me in a Desart, where there is not the Foot-step of a Man; car∣ry me either to your own Country or to Lybia, which is not far from Mount Oeta, and Trachynium, and the agreeable Banks of Sperchius. Bring me to my Father; Alas! I fear he's dead. I desir'd him to send me a Ship; either he's dead, or those that carry'd the Message have not deliver'd it: O my Son, thou art my only Relief; remember the In∣stability of humane Affairs: The Happy ought to succour the Unfor∣tunate,

and be afraid to abuse the Prosperity they enjoy. This was the Substance of what the excess of my Grief made me say to Neoptole∣mus; which made him promise to carry me along with him: Then I cry'd out, O happy Day; O dear Neoptolemus, worthy of the Glory of such a Father: Dear companions of my happy Voyage, allow me to bid adieu to this melancholy Abode: See where I have liv'd and imagine what I have suffer'd: I am sure it is what none else could have en∣dur'd: But necessity instructed me; Necessity, that teaches Mankind what they would never learn with∣out her. Those that have never suffer'd, know nothing: They are ignorant both of Good and Evil: they are Strangers to Mankind, and Strangers to themselves. When I had thus spoke, I took my Bow and Arrows; which Neoptolemus dc∣sir'd to kiss, being the famous and sacred Arms of the invincible Her∣cules.

I can deny thee nothing, said I; 'tis thou, my Son, that restorest to me my Life, my Country, my decrepit Father, my Friends and my Self: Freely touch these Arms and boast, That thou art the only Greek that ever had that Honour. Whilest Neoptolemus enter'd my Grotto to look on my Arms, I was seiz'd with a cruel Pain; I was quite distract∣ed, and did not know what I did: I ask'd a Knife to cut off my Foot; I cry'd out, O Death, so much long'd for, Why dost not thou come? O dear Youth, burn me to Ashes, as I did the Son of Jupiter. O Earth, open and receive a dying Wretch, that cannot any more raise himself from thee. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on a sudden, as I us'd to do, I fell into a deep Swoon: I was relieved by the Sweat that begun to break out upon me; whilest black and cor∣rupted Gore issu'd from my Wound. During my Sleep, it had been easie for Neoptolemus to have carry'd off

my Arms; but he was the Son of Achilles, and not born to cheat. When I awak'd, I perceiv'd the Confusion he was in; he sigh'd like one that was not us'd to dissemble, or act against his Conscience. Wilt thou then surprize me? said I. What is the matter, said he, thou must follow me to the Siege of Troy. Then answer'd I, what do'st thou say? my Son, I am betray'd; Re∣store me my Bow; don't rob me of that which is dearer to me than my very Life. He made me no re∣turn, but look'd on me calmly and unconcern'd. O ye Banks and Pro∣montories of this desert Island! O ye wild Beasts, and steep Rocks, to you only I can complain; to you, who are accustom'd to my Groans: Must I be betray'd by the Son of Achilles! Who robs me of the sa∣cred Bow of Hercules, and would drag me along with him to the Gre∣cian Camp; and does not see that this is only to triumph over a dead

Corps, a Ghost, a Fantom. Would he had attack'd me in my Vigour, as now he does basely and by sur∣prize! O Son, shew thy self like thy Father, like thy Self. What say'st thou? Nothing! O dearest Rock, to thee I return, naked, mi∣serable, forsaken, famish'd; in this Cave I must pine away, wanting my Bow to kill the wild Beasts for my Food, or to defend me from their Fury. What then? But thou, my Son, who dost not appear to be so wicked, tell me what pushes thee on to so black a Villany! Restore me my Arms, and get the gone! Then Neoptolemus, with Tears in his Eyes, was muttering to himself, Would to God I had not departed from Sciros! In the mean time I cry'd out in a surprize, What is it I see! Is not this Ulysses? I knew his Voice. He answer'd, It is I. If the dark Regions of Pluto had open'd, and I had seen the black Tartarus, which the Gods themselves

are afraid to behold, I could not have been seiz'd with a greater Horror: I cry'd out, Witness thou Island of Lemnos! O Sun! do'st thou look on and suffer this? Ulys∣ses calmly answer'd, I execute the Will of Jupiter. Do'st thou, said I, name Jupiter? Seest thou there that Youth, who was not born to deceive, and to whom 'tis painful to execute thy perfideous Designs? 'Tis neither to cheat nor hurt thee, said Ulysses, that we come hither; 'tis to deliver thee, to heal thy Wounds, to give thee the Honour of destroying the City of Troy, and to bring thee back to thy own Country; 'tis thy Self, and not I, that art the Enemy of Philoctetes. Then did I breath out against your Father all that my Passion could in∣spire me with: Since thou left'st me forsaken upon this Shoar, said I, why wilt thou not suffer me to live here in Peace! Go, seek Renown in Battle, and enjoy the Pleasures

of Life; thy good Fortune in the company of thy Companions the A∣trides: Don't envy me my Misery and Pain, why would you carry me off? I am nothing, I am alrea∣dy dead. Hast thou not as much reason to believe now as well as for∣merly, that my Shrieks, and the In∣fection of my Wound will disturb the Sacrifices? O Ulysses! Author of all my Miseries, May the Gods — But the Gods are deaf; nay, they stir up my Enemy against me. O my Country, which I shall never see again! O ye Gods, if there be any just enough to pity me! Punish U∣lysses: Then I shall believe my self Cured of all my Maladies.

While I thus spoke, your Father calmly look'd on me with an Air of Compassion, far from being pro∣vok'd; he seem'd like a Rock upon the top of a Mountain, which sports it self with the Fury of the Winds; and lets them spend their rage, while it continues immoveable. So your

Father kept silence till my Rage shou'd be exhausted; for he well knew, that to reduce Men to Reason, we must not attack their Passions, but stay till they are weaken'd through weariness. O Philoctetes, said he, what has become of your Reason and Courage? Now is the occasion to use it; if you refuse to go along with us, to fulfil the great purposes of Jupiter concerning your self, farewell; You are unworthy to be the Deliverer of Greece, and the Ruin of Troy: Continue at Lemnos: These Arms which I carry off shall give me the Renown that was de∣stin'd for you. Neoptolemus, let us be gone, 'tis in vain to speak to him; our Compassion for one single Man, must not make us neglect the safety of all Greece.

Then methought I was like a Lyo∣ness about to be robb'd of her Young; who with her roaring, makes the Forests to tremble. O Cave, said I, I shall never quit thee, thou shalt be

my Grave! O thou sorrowful A∣bode! I have now no Hope left me, nor means of Subsistence; Who will give me a Sword to stab my self? O! if the Birds of Prey would devour me, they need not any more dread my Arrows? Oh precious Bow, consecrated by the Hands of the Son of Jupiter! O dear Hercules! art not thou sensible of this Indignity? thy Bow is not any more in the Hands of thy faithful Friend, but in the im∣pure and treacherous Hands of Ulys∣ses. Birds of Prey and wild Beasts, flie no more from this Cave, my Arrows cannot hurt you; come and devour me! Or thou merciless Ju∣piter, crush me with thy Thunder!

Your Father having try'd all o∣ther means of perswasion, at last, thought it better to restore me my Arms, and made a Sign to Neopto∣lemus to give them back. Then, said I to him, thou shewest thy self to be the Son of Achilles. Suffer me to pierce my Enemy to the Heart.

And drawing an Arrow against your Father, Neoptolemus stopp'd my Hand, saying, Anger clouds your Reason, and hinders you from see∣ing the unworthy action you are go∣ing to commit: As for Ulysses, he appear'd as unconcern'd at my Ar∣rows as at my reproaches. I was sensibly mov'd with his Courage and Patience, and asham'd for endeavou∣ring, in the transport of my Passion, to kill him with the Weapons, which he had caused to be restor'd. But as my Resentment was not as yet appeas'd, I was sorry that I must owe such a Favour to my Enemy. Know, said Neoptolemus, that the Divine Helenus, the Son of Priamus, having come out of the City of Troy, by the Order and inspiration of the Gods, hath unridled the Mysteries of future times. The unhappy Troy, said he, shall fall; but not before it is attack'd by him, who keeps the Arrows of Hercules; nor shall that Man ever be heal'd till he come be∣fore

its Walls, where the Sons of Esculapius shall Cure him. At that instant I was divided in my Thoughts; I was mov'd with the Ingenuity of Neoptolemus, and his Honesty in re∣storing my Bow; but I could not think of submitting to Ulysses; the disgrace of which, kept me in su∣spence. Must I ever be seen again in the company of Ulysses and the Atrides? What will the World say of me? Whilst I continu'd in this uncertainty, on a sudden I heard a more than Humane Voice; I saw Hercules in a bright Cloud, encircled with Rays of Glory. I easily knew his Masculine Features, his robust Limbs, and his plain manner; but he appear'd with a Stature and Ma∣jesty beyond what he had, when he was Conquering Monsters upon Earth. He said to me, 'Tis Hercu∣les whim thou seest and hearest: I have quitted the high Olympus, to make known to thee the Commands of Jupiter: Thou know'st by what

Labors I acquir'd Immortality: Thou must likewise go with the Son of Achilles, to trace my Foot∣steps in the Path of Renown: Thou shalt be Cur'd, and with my Ar∣rows thou shalt pieree Paris, the Au∣thor of so much Mischief. Thou shalt send the rich Spoils of Troy to thy Father, on Mount Oeta; there they shall be plac'd upon my Tomb, as a Monument of the Victory ow∣ing to my Arrows: And thou, O Son of Achilles! I tell thee, that thou cannot be victorious without Philo∣ctetes, nor Philoctetes without thee: Go then like two Lyons who seek their Prey together. I will sent E∣sculapius to Troy to Cure Philoctetes. Love, and observe Religion; all o∣ther things are mortal, but the Fruits of this endure forever.

When I had heard these Words, I cry'd out, O happy Day! O sweet Light! that after so many Years do'st shew thy self at last. I obey; let me salute the Place, and be gone.

Adieu, dear Cave, adieu ye Nymphs of these watry Meadows; I shall hear no more the hollow noise of these Billows; adieu thou Shore, where I have so often endur'd the Injuries of the Weather; adieu ye Hills, where the Eccho has so often repeated my Groans; adieu sweet Fountains, yet who to me have been so bitter; adieu Lemnos, favour my Departure, since I go where I am call'd by the Will of the Gods, and my Friends. So we departed and ar∣riv'd at the Siege of Troy; where Machaon and Podalyrus, by the Di∣vine Art of their Father Esculapius, did cure me; or at least put me in the Condition you now see me, ha∣ving recovered my Vigour, tho' I am still somewhat lame. Paris fell by my Hand, as a fearful Fawn, pierc'd with the Arrows of the Hun∣ter. Ilium was reduc'd to Ashes; I need say no more, you know the rest. Nevertheless I retain'd still some aversion to the sage Ulysses, oc∣casion'd

by the remembrance of the Ills that I had endur'd; and tho' his Virtue could not appease my Re∣sentment, yet the sight of a Son, who resembles him so much, and whom I am forc'd to love, softens my Heart towards the Father him∣self.

During the Relation of the Ad∣ventures of Philoctetes, Telemachus continued immovable; and as 'twere, in suspence, with his Eyes fix'd on the great Man that spoke: All the different Passions that mov'd Hercu∣les, Philoctetes, Ulysses, Neoptolemus, as they were represented, appear'd, each in their turn, upon the innocent Countenance of Telemachus: During the Relation, he would sometimes cry out, and interrupt Philoctetes, without thinking; sometimes he would seem thoughtful, and like one concern'd for the sequel of some im∣portant Affair; whilst Philoctetes was describing the Confusion of Neoptolemus, who could not dissem∣ble;

Telemachus seem'd to be in the same disorder: And at that Mo∣ment you would have took him for Neoptolemus.

In the mean while, the Confede∣rate Army march'd in good Order against Adrastus, King of the Dau∣nians, an impious Fellow despised of the Gods, and a Deceiver of Men. Telemachus found some difficulty how to behave himself among so many Kings, jealous of one another; it behoved him to give none of 'em ground of suspicion, but to gain the Favour of them all: He was of a good and honest Disposition, but not very complaisant: He did not trouble himself much with obli∣ging others; And tho' he was not covetous of Riches, yet did he not care to part with them. Thus with a Noble and Honest Mind, he seem'd neither obliging, nor very sensible of Friendship, or the con∣cern others had for him, nor careful to distinguish Merit. He follow'd

his Humour without reflection; in spite of Mentor, his Mother Penelope had brought him up in Pride and Haughtiness of temper, that tainted all his good Qualities. He look'd upon himself as made of other Me∣tal than the rest of Mankind, who seem'd to him to be sent by the Gods, only for his Pleasure and Service, and to make every thing subservi∣ent to him as a Deity. The Happi∣ness of serving him was a sufficient Reward. Where his Pleasures were concern'd, nothing must be impos∣sible; the most trivial Delays did ir∣ritate his eager Temper. Had any one seen him in his natural Disposi∣tion, they would have thought him incapable of loving any thing be∣sides himself, being only mov'd by his own Vain-glory, and Pleasure: but this indifference for others, and regard for himself, proceeded from nothing but the continual transport and violence of his Passions; which his Mother had humour'd from

his Cradle. He was a remarkable Instance of the Unhappiness of those who are High-born: The Serverities of Fortune which he felt in his ear∣ly Youth, had not moderated the impetuosity and haughtiness of his Temper: Tho' destitute, forsaken; and expos'd to so many Miseries, yet he abated nothing of his Pride. It would raise it self, like a supple Palm, after all Attempts to press it down. These Faults did not shew themselves in Mentor's Company, but daily decreas'd; as a fiery Courser, who frisking through the spacious Fields, whom neither Rocks nor Precipices, nor Torrents can stop, is obedient only to the Voice and Hand of one Man, who knows how to tame him: So Telemachus, full of a Noble Ardour, could be kept in by none but the Wise Mentor; one of his Frowns would immediately stop him in his most impetuous Ca∣reer: He knew the meaning of each Look, and at that Moment

would summon all his virtuous Re∣solutions. Wisdom in an instant, would render his Countenance smooth and serene. Neptune does not more quickly appease the hideous Tem∣pests, when with his Trident he threatens the proud Billows.

When Telemachus was alone, all his Passions, that seem'd only su∣spended for a time, like a Torrent damm'd in, would take their natu∣ral Course. He could not endure the Arrogance of the Lacedemonians, nor of Phalanthus, who was at their Head. This Colony, which came with a Design to found the City of Tarentum, was compos'd of young Men, who were Born during the Siege of Troy; who for their ille∣gitimate Birth, irregular Manners, and the Licentiousness in which they had been brought up, had something about them that was wild and barbarous: They resem∣bl'd more a Company of Robbers than a Grecian Colony. Phalanthus

would seek out all occasions to con∣tradict Telemachus, despising his Counsels, as those of a Young Man without Experience; and would make him the Subject of his Raillery; treating him as if he had been pusillanimous and effe∣minate: He expos'd his smallest Failings to the Captains of the Ar∣my, endeavouring to sow Jealou∣sie, and to make the haughtiness of Telemachus, odious to all the Confederate Princes. One Day, Te∣lemachus having taken some Dauni∣an Prisoners, pretended that they be∣long'd to him, alledging it was he that had defeated that Party of the Enemies: And that Tele∣machus having found the Dau∣nians already beat and put to flight, had nothing to do but give them Quarter, and carry them along to the Camp. Tele∣machus on the other hand main∣tain'd, that he had saved Phalan∣thus from being beat, and obtain'd

this Victory over the Daunians. Both of 'em pleaded their Cause be∣fore the Confederate Kings; where Telemachus was so much transported with his Passion, that he gave Pha∣lanthus threatning Language, so that they had gone to Blows, if the By∣standers had not interpos'd. Pha∣lanthus had a Brother whose name was Hippias, famous thro' all the Army for his Valour, Strength and Address: Pollux, as the Tarentines alledge, was not a better Champion, and he surpass'd Castor himself in managing a Horse. He had almost the Stature and Strength of Hercules, and was redoubted of all the Army, tho he was more quarrelsom and bru∣tal than brave. Hippias, when he saw with what Insolence Telemachus had treated his Brother, goes in haste, and carries off the Prisoners to Tarentum, without waiting for the Sentence of the Assembly; which somebody having whisper'd to Te∣lemachus, out he went in a Rage,

foaming like a Bear, pursuing the Huntsman that had wounded him. You might see him wandring thro' the Camp, endeavouring to spy out his Enemy, and shaking the Dart, with which he resolv'd to pierce him: At last, meeting him, the Sight redoubl'd his Rage; he was now no more the wise Telemachus, instructed by Minerva in the shape of Mentor, but a mad-Man, a furi∣ous Lyon. Immediately he call'd out, Stay, Hippias! Thou basest of Mortals! I will try if thou dar'st rob me of the Spoils of my Victory: Thou shalt not carry these Prisoners to Tarentum; I'll send thee down to the gloomy Banks of Styx. This said, he flung his Dart, but with so much Fury, that he could not measure his Stroke, and the Dart miss'd Hippias. Immediately he puts his Hand to his Sword, whose Handle was of Gold, and which Laertes had given him when he part∣ed from Ithaca, as a Pledge of his

Love. This Sword had won Laer∣tes much Honour in his Youth, and was stain'd with the Blood of ma∣ny famous Captains of the Epirots, in a War wherein Laertes was Vi∣ctorious. Telemachus had hardly drawn his Sword, when Hippias, taking the Advantage of his own Strength, falls upon him, endea∣vouring to snatch it out of his Hand. The Sword was broke betwixt 'em, so they grapled and clos'd. They seem'd like Two young Lyons tear∣ing one another to Pieces; they dart Fire from their Eyes, they contract themselves, then they stretch, they stoop, they rise again, they dart themselves, and are all over be∣smear'd with Blood. Now they come to Handy-blows, Foot to Foot, Hand to Hand, with their two Bodies so twisted together, that they seem'd but one. Hippias, who was already arriv'd at Manhood, seem'd able to crush the weaker and more tender Youth of Telemachus, who

already found himself out of Breath, and his Legs begin to fail. Hippias finding him in a staggering Con∣dition, doubled his Force. There had been an end of the Son of Ulysses, and he had received the just Punish∣ment of his Rashness and Passion, if Minerva, who in her absence watch'd over him, and left him in this Danger only for his Instruction, had not determin'd the Victory in his Favour. She did not leave her Palace of Salentum her self, but sent Iris, the swift Messenger of the Gods; who with nimble Wing, cutting the spacious Air, and leav∣ing behind her a Tract of Light, which painted the Clouds with a 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉different Colours; rested at last upon the Shoar where the numerous Army of the Confederates was Encamp'd. She beheld from afar the Strife and Ardor of the two Combatants; she trembled at the sight of the Danger to which the young Telemachus was expos'd: And

approaching towards him, involv'd in a bright Cloud, form'd of subtle Vapours, in the very nick of time, when Hippias redoubling his Force, believed himself Victorious, she co∣vered the young Charge of Minerva, with the Shield with which the sage Goddess had entrusted her. Im∣mediately Telemachus, whose Force was quite spent, began to recover new Vigour, and the more he re∣viv'd, the more Hippias was disor∣der'd: He felt something, as 'twere Divine, that crush'd and confounded him. Telemachus presses him hard, assaults him sometimes in one Po∣sture, sometimes in another: He makes him stagger, leaving him no time to recover himself; at last he throws him, and falls upon him. A lofty Oak of Mount Ida, fell'd with a thousand Blows, which make all the Forest ring, does not make a more terrible Noise in fal∣ling: The Earth groan'd, and all Things around him trembled at his

Fall. In the mean time, Telemachus, who had recover'd his Wisdom with his Strength, had scarce thrown Hippias, when he begun to be sensi∣ble of his Fault, in attacking thus the Brother of one of the Confede∣rate Kings, whom he came to Suc∣cour. He call'd to mind, with con∣fusion, the wise Counsels of Mentor; he was asham'd of the Victory, which he well knew he did not de∣serve. In the mean time, Phalan∣thus transported with Rage, ran to succour his Brother: He had pierc'd Telemachus with the Dart which he held, if he had not been affraid at the same time to wound Hippias, whom Telemachus kept down. In this Condition, the Son of Ulysses might have easily took away the Life of his Enemy, but his Wrath was asswag'd: He thought of no∣thing now but repairing his Fault, by shewing his Moderation: Up he gets, uttering these Words. Oh Hippias! I am satisfied I have

Taught thee not to despise my Youth. Live; I admire thy Force, thy Strength and Courage: Yeild to the Power of the Gods that have protected me, and let us think of nothing now but of uniting our Force against the Daunians. Whilst Telemachus thus spoke, Hippias rose up, besmear'd with Durt and Blood, and full of Shame and Rage. Pha∣lanthus, who could not take the Life of him who had just now so gene∣rously given it to his Brother, was quite beside himself, and knew not what to do. All the Confederate Kings ran to the Place: On one side they carry'd off Telemachus, and on the other Phalanthus and Hippias, who having now lost all his Cou∣rage, durst not shew his Face. The Army could not enough admire how Telemachus, at so tender an Age (wherein Men usually do not attain to their full Strength) was able to throw Hippias; who seem'd in Strength and Bulk like to those Sons

of the Earth, who in former times durst drive the immortal Gods from Olympus.

But the Son of Ulysses was very far from enjoying any Pleasure in his Victory; and whilst others could not enough admire him, he retir'd into his Tent, asham'd of his Fault, and unable to brook himself. He bewail'd his Rashness: He was sen∣sible how unjust and unreasonable he was in his Passion: He found something Vain, Silly, and mean in his excessive Pride: He knew that true Greatness was only to be found in Moderation, Justice, Modesty and Humanity. This he saw clear∣ly, but durst not hope that ever he should amend after so many Re∣lapses: He was combating with himself, and you might hear him roar like a furious Lyon: Two Days he continu'd shut up in his Tent, unable to endure any Company, and tormenting himself. Alass, said he, dare I ever look Mentor in the

Face? Am I the Son of Ulysses, the wisest and most patient of Men? Did I come hither to create Division and Disorder in the Confederate Army? Is it their Blood or that of the Daunians that I ought to have shed? I have been rash; and whilst I lanc'd my Dart unskilfully, put my self upon unequal Terms with Hippias, whereby I could expect no∣thing but a dishonourable Fate. But what then? I should not have been any more the inconsiderate Telema∣chus; that young Coxcomb that does not profit by any Advice; then my Disgrace should have ended with my Life. Oh, could I hope never to be guilty of that for which I am now so Disconsolate! I should be still too happy; but perhaps before Night I shall repeat the same Acti∣ons, which at this time fill me with so much Horrour and Shame. Oh fatal Victory! Oh insufferable Applause! Which art nothing but the bitter reproach of my Folly.

While Telemachus was in this dis∣consolate Condition, Nestor and Phi∣loctetes came to wait on him. Nestor had resolv'd to make him sensible of his Fault; but this wise old Man finding the Despair the Youth was in, chang'd his grave Reproof into Expressions of Tenderness to miti∣gate his Grief.

The Confederate Princes were put to a stand by this Quarrel: They could not march their Army towards the Enemy, till they had reconcil'd Telemachus with Phalanthus and Hip∣pias: They were affraid every Mi∣nute lest the Tarentine Troops should attack the Hundred young Cretans that follow'd Telemachus in this War: All was in Disorder through Telemachus's Fault; and he finding himself the Author of so much Mis∣chief, both present and to come, gave himself up intirely to Grief. The Confederate Princes were in a great strait: They durst not march their Army for fear lest the Cretans

and Tarentines should fall foul of one another; nay, they could not keep them from Quarrelling within the Camp, where they were carefully watch'd. Nestor and Philoctetes went backward and forward in∣cessantly betwixt the Tent of Tele∣machus and that of Phalanthus, who breath'd nothing but Revenge. Nei∣ther the soft Eloquence of Nestor, nor the Authority of Philoctetes could prevail upon his implacable Spirit; which was still more provok'd by the irritating Discourse of his Bro∣ther Hippias. Telemachus on the other Hand was Mild, but quite overwhelm'd with Grief, which re∣fused all manner of Consolation. This Disorder among the Princes, put all the Troops in a Consterna∣tion. The Camp appear'd like a desolate House, after having lost the Master of the Family, the support of its Neighbours, or the flattering Hopes of its little Children. During this Disorder and Consternation, on

a sudden they heard the terrible Noise of Chariots, Arms, the Neigh∣ing of Horses, and Cryings of Men: Some as Conquerours, and Hot in the Pursuit; others Flying, Dying or Wounded: A thick Cloud of Dust cover'd the Sky and involv'd the Camp: To this was join'd a stifling Smoke, which thicken'd the Air; and all were seiz'd with Ter∣rour. It seems Adrastus, who was Vigilant and Indefatigable, had sur∣priz'd the Allies; having been ad∣vis'd of their March, and conceal∣ing his own. In two Nights time, with an incredible Expedition, he had march'd round an inaccessible Mountain, of which the Allies had seiz'd all the Avenues: And being possess'd of them, thought they were not only in perfect Security themselves, but pretended, when they should be join'd by the rest of their Troops, by these Passes, to fall on the Enemy on the other side of the Mountain, Adrastus, who gave

Mony with both Hands for Intelli∣gence, had been inform'd of this their Resolution; for Nestor and Philoctetes, tho' otherwise experi∣enc'd and wise Captains, were not secret enough in their Counsels. Nestor in his old Age was too much taken up with the vain glory of re∣counting his former Actions: Phi∣loctetes spoke less, but he was hasty; and if you but rous'd his active Temper, he would blab out all his Designs. Cunning People, by this means, found the way to his Heart, and the Key to his most important Secrets: Only provoke him, then full of Fire, and beside himself, he would break out in threatning Lan∣guage; he would brage of sure Means to accomplish his Designs; if you seem'd never so little to doubt of them, he would proceed inconside∣rately to explain them, and to be∣tray the most important Secrets. The Heart of this great Captain was like a Vessel made of costly

Metal, but Leaky. These Villains that were brib'd with the Gold of Adrastus, did not fail to take ad∣vantage of the Weakness of these two Princes. Nestor, they flatter'd continually with vain Applause: They put him in mind of his past Victories, admir'd his Foresight and Conduct: On the other hand, they laid a Trap for the impatient Hu∣mour of Philoctetes; they talk'd of nothing to him but Difficulties, Un∣seasonableness, Dangers, Inconveni∣ences, and remediless Faults: When he was once heated, his Prudence forsook him, he was not any more the same Man.

Telemachus, notwithstanding the Faults we have mention'd, was more close: He had been accu∣stom'd to Slavery by his Misfor∣tunes, and the Necessity he was in, from his Child-hood, to hide his Designs from the Lovers of his Mo∣ther Penelope. He knew how to keep a Secret without telling a Lie,

and was free from that reserv'd and mysterious Air, that is so common to close People. He did not seem bur∣then'd with the Secret which he kept; you found him always easie, free and open, as one that had his Heart upon his Lips: He would tell you every thing that was of less moment; but knew how to stop nicely, and with∣out affectation, at those things which might give any suspicion or broach his Secret. By this means his Heart was inaccessible, and his best Friends knew but as much as he thought fit to discover in order to have their good Advice. Mentor was the only Person for whom he had no Reserve. He had different degrees of Confidence in his other Friends, according as he had ex∣perience of their Love and Pru∣dence.

Telemachus had often observ'd that their Counsels were too soon spread over the Camp: He advertiz'd Ne∣stor and Philoctetes of it; but these

two experienc'd Captains did not at∣tend sufficiently to so wholsome an Advice. Age is untractable, Habit holds it, as'twere in Chains, so that its Faults admit of no Remedy; as full grown Trees, whose rough and knotty Trunks are hardned by Years, cannot any more be strait'ned, so Men at a certain Age cannot be bent from these Customs which are grown up with them, and, as 'twere, entred into their very Marrow. They know them, but too late: In vain they lament; for tender Youth is the only Age wherein Men have the Power of Correcting their vici∣ous Habits.

There was in the Army a Dolo∣pian, nam'd Eurimachus, an insinuat∣ing Flatterer, who knew how to ac∣commodate himself to all the Hu∣mours of the Princes, Ingenious and Active to find new ways to please them. Believe him, Nothing was hard. Ask his Advice, he thought upon what would be most grateful:

He knew how to break a Jest upon the Weak; but complaisant to those of whom he stood in awe. He could season his Flattery so nicely, as to make it pass with Persons of the greatest Modesty. He was Grave with the Grave, Cheerful with the Cheerful. It was easie for him to put himself in all Shapes. Sincere and virtuous Men, who are always the same, and subject them∣selves to the strict Rules of Virtue, can never be so agreeable to Princes, as those who humour their predo∣minant Passions.

Eurimachus understood the Art of War, was capable of Business, had follow'd Nestor as one that was push∣ing his Fortune, and had got much into his Favour. He could pump any Secret out of his Hcart, which was vain and subject to Flattery: And altho' Philoctetes was more dif∣fident of him, yet his cholerick and impatient Temper gave him the same advantage as his Familiarity

with Nestor: Eurimachus would contradict him, and so by provoking him, would discover all. This Fel∣low had receiv'd great Sums from Adrastus, to inform him of the De∣figns of the Allies; besides, he had always a certain Number of Refu∣gees in the Confederate Camp, who were one after another to desert from thence, and return to his Army: And when Eurimachus had any im∣portant Affair to communicate to Adrastus, he sent off one of these Deserters. The Cheat could not be easily discover'd, because they car∣ry'd no Letters; and if they were taken, had nothing about them to make Eurimachus suspected. In the mean time Adrastus prevented all the Enterprizes of the Consederates: A Resolution was no sooner taken in their Council, than the Daunians did that precisely which was neces∣sary to hinder the Execution of it. Telemachus was very diligent in searching out the Cause of this, and

striving to excite the Jealousie and Mistrust of Nestor and Philoctetes; but to no purpose; for they were blind. Once they had resolv'd in Council to wait for the numerous Troops that were to join them; and they had caused to advance se∣cretly in the Night an hundred Ves∣sels, the sooner to transport their Troops from a rugged Coast where they were to come, to the Place where the Army was encamp'd. All this while they thought themselves safe, their Troops being possess'd of the Passes of the neighbouring Mountains, which is inaccessible to∣wards the Apennines. Their Army was encamp'd on the River Gale∣sus, not far from the Sea; in a de∣licious Country, abounding in Pa∣sturage, and all things necessary for the Subsistence of an Army. Adra∣stus was encamp'd behind the Moun∣tain, which they reckon'd he could not pass; but he understanding that the Confederates were weak, and

expected a great Reinforcement; that the Ships were waiting for their Arrival, and that the Army was divided by Telemachus's Quarrel with Phalanthus, he march'd round with great Expedition, Night and Day, till he arriv'd at the Sea-Coast; where, at break of Day, he sur∣priz'd these hundred Vessels. They being ill guared, he seiz'd upon them without much Resistance, and made use of them to transport his own Troops to the Mouth of the River Galesus. Afterwards sailing up the River, the advanc'd Guards believ'd that these were the Ships that had their own Troops on Board; and immediately shouted for Joy. So Adrastus and his Soldiers landed be∣fore they were known. They fall upon the Allies, who mistrusted no∣thing: They found their Camp en∣tirely open, without Order, with∣out a Head, and unarm'd. He made his Attack on the Quarters of the Tarentines, where Phalanthus com∣manded:

The Daunians entred there with such force, that the La∣cedemonian Youth being surpriz'd, were not able to resist: While they were looking for their Arms, in the Confusion they hinder'd one ano∣ther. Adrastus sets Fire to the Camp: It seizes on the Tents, and mounts up to the Clouds. With its terrible Noise it resemb∣led a Torrent which overspreads a whole Countrey, and with its rapid Course, carries it along with it the lofty Oaks with their deep Roots, the Corn, the Granaries, the Flocks and their Stalls. The Wind blows the Flame from Tent to Tent, and in an instant, the Camp look'd like an old Forest burnt down by a Spark of Fire. Phalanthus, tho' near∣est the Danger, could not remedy it: He saw clearly that all the Troops must perish in this Fire, if they did not make haste to leave the Camp; but he likewise saw how dangerous such a disorderly Retreat

must be before a victorious Enemy: He began to draw out the Lacedemo∣nian Youth half Arm'd; but Adra∣stus would not give them time to breath. On one Hand a Troop of cunning Archers let fly a shower of Arrows upon the Soldiers of Phalan∣thus; on the other, the Slingers hailed great Stones. Adrastus him∣self, with Sword in Hand, march∣ing at the head of a chosen Com∣pany of the bravest Daunians, by the light of the Fire, pursu'd the flying Troops; mowing down with his Sword what had escaped the Fire. Tho' he swam in Blood, he was not satiated with slaughter: Lyons and Tygers, when they worry the Shep∣herds with their Flocks, fall short of his Fury. The Troops of Phalan∣thus faint, their Courage fails them: Pale Death, led on by an Infernal Fury, with her Head brisled with Serpents, freezes their Blood in their Veins. Their benumm'd Mem∣bers grow stiff, and their faint Limbs

deprive them even of the Hope of Flight. Phalanthus, whose Shame and Despair had rouz'd up his small remainder of Courage and Vigour, lifting his Eyes and Hands towards Heaven, he saw his Brother Hippi∣as fall at his Feet, under the redoub∣led strokes of the thundering Hand of Adrastus. There he lay stretch∣ed out, and groveling in the Dust, with black and boiling Blood, gush∣ing like a Torrent from the deep Wound of his side: He shuts his Eyes, and his furious Soul flies out with the last drop of his Blood. Pha∣lanthus besmear'd with his Brother's Blood, and unable to help him, finds himself environ'd with a Crowd of his Enemies, who were endeavouring to run him down. His Buckler was pierc'd with a Thousand Darts, and his Body wounded in several Places. He could not rally any more his flee∣ing Troops; the Gods look'd down, and did not pity. Jupiter amidst the Celestial Deities, beheld from O∣lympus,

the slaughter of the Conse∣derates. At the same time he con∣sulted the immutable Destinies, and saw all those Captains whose Thread was to be cut that Day with the fa∣tal Cissars. All the Gods were at∣tentive to discover his Will by his Countenance; but the Father of the Gods and Men, told them with a sweet and majestick Voice: You see to what Extremity the Allies are reduced; you see Adrastus routing the Enemies; but this Sight is fal∣lacious. Short is the Glory and Prosperity of the Wicked: The Im∣pious Adrastus, and detestable for his Treachery, shall not gain an intire Victory. This Misfortune happens to the Allies, only to teach them to correct their Folly, and keep their counsels more secret. On this occasion, the Sage Minerva is pre∣paring a new Triumph for her young Darling Telemachus. Here Jupiter having ended, all the Gods in deep silence continued to behold the Battle.

In the mean time Nestor and Phi∣loct tes were advertis'd, that a part of their Camp was already burnt; that the Flame, pusht on by the Wind, was continually advancing; that their Troops were in Disorder; that Phalanthus was not any longer able to sustain the Enemies Attacks. As soon as this fatal News had reach'd their Ears, they run to Arms, assemble their Captains, and com∣mand them to retire immediately out of the Camp to shun the Fire.

Telemachus, formerly cast down, and disconsolate, now forgets his Grief; he puts on his Armour, the invaluable Present of the sage Minerva; who appearing in the shape of Mentor, made as if she had got them from a curious Work∣man at Salentum; but in reality, he caus'd them to be made by Vulcan, in the fuming Caverns of Mount AEtna. This Armour was as smooth as Ice, and bright as the Beams of the Sun. Upon them was grav'd

the famous History of the Siege of Thebes: There you might see the unhappy Laius; who being in∣form'd by the Oracle of Apollo, that his New-born Son should be his Fathers Murderer, deliver'd the Child to a Shepherd, to expose him to the Wild Beasts, and Birds of Prey. Then you might observe the Shepherd carry the Child up the Mountain Citheron, betwixt Boetica and Phocis, whilst it seem'd to cry, as sensible of its deplorable Desti∣ny. It had in its Countenance, that native Simplicity and Tender∣ness, which makes Childhood so lovely. The Shepherd who carrid him up the hideous Rocks, seem'd to do it with Regret, and being mov'd with Compassion, the Tears flow from his Eyes: Irresolute and perplex'd, he pierces the Child'd Feet with his Sword, and thrusting in an Ozier Branch, he hange him to a Tree, neither daring to save him against his Masters Orders, nor to

deliver him up to certain Death. After this he leaves him for fear of seeing the little Innocent die, which he lov'd so dearly.

By this time, the Child was rea∣dy to perish for want of Nourish∣ment; his Feet by which he was hung, were Black and Swell'd.

Phorbas, a Shepherd of Polybus King of Corinth, feeding his Ma∣ster's Flocks in this Desert, heard the Cries of the poor Child: He runs and takes him down, delivers him to another Shepherd, to carry him to Queen Merope, who was Childless: She was mov'd with his Beauty, and from his swell'd Feet nam'd him Oedipus; nurses him as her own Son, believing him sent from the Gods. All these different Actions were represented in their proper places. Asterwards you saw Oedipus now grown up, who being inform'd that Polybus was not his Father, travel'd from Country to Country to discover his Nativity.

The Oracle told him, that he should find his Father in Phocis: Thither he goes: where finding the People in an Uproar, in the Tumult he kill'd his Father Laius without know∣ing him. After that he appears at Thebes, he explains the AEnigma of Sphinx, kills the Monster, and espou∣ses Queen Jocasta, his Mother not knowing her, and she believing him to be the Son of Polybus. This detestable Marriage was follow'd by a dreadful Plague, a manifest Sign of the anger of the Gods. Here Vulcan had taken Pleasure to repre∣sent Infants dying in their Mothers Bosom, the People languishing, and Death and Sorrow painted on their Countenance; but that which was most frightful, was to see Oedipus, after having for a long time sought out the Reason of the Wrath of the Gods, discover himself to be the Cause. You might see upon the Countenance of Jocasta, Shame and Dread, to unriddle what she was

unwilling to know: Despair and Horrour upon that of Oedipus. He plucks out his Eyes, and you see him led about Blind by his Daughter An∣tigone. He reproaches the Gods with the Crimes which they had suffer'd him to commit: Then you see him enrag'd against himself, and be∣ing unable to endure the Company of Mankind any longer, he retires, leaving his Kingdom to his two Sons, which he had by Jocasta, Ete∣ocles and Polynices, on condition that they should reign each a Year by Turns. But the Discord of the Bro∣thers was more terrible still than the Misfortunes of Oedipus. Eteocles ap∣pears upon the Throne, refusing to come down to let his Brother take his Place: He again having recourse to Adrastus, King of Argos, whose Daughter he had espoused, advan∣ces towards Thebes with a numerous Army. Round about all the besieg∣ed Town you might see Battles. Here were assembled all the Hero's of

Greece; and the Siege of Troy did not seem more Bloody.

There you might know the Un∣fortunate Husband of Eryphile, the famous Diviner Amphiraus; who foresaw the Fate which he could not avoid. He hides that he might not be carried to the Siege of Thebes, knowing he was to engage in a War, from which he should never return. Eryphile was the only Per∣son he durst confide in; Eryphile his Spouse whom he lov'd so dearly, and by whom he believ'd he was so tenderly belov'd, betray'd her Husband Amphiraus, bribed with a Neck-lace which Adrastus King of Argos gave her. You might see her discover the Place where her Hus∣band was hid: And Adrastus carry∣ing him to Thebes against his Will. Quickly after his Arrival, he appears swallow'd up of the Earth; which opens on a sudden to plunge him. Amongst so many Combats where Mars exercised his Fury, you might

observe with horror, that of the two Brothers, Eteocles and Polynices. There appears something hideous and dis∣mal in their Looks: Their Crimi∣nal Birth seems written in their Fore∣heads, by which you might easily judge, that they were devoted to the Infernal Furies, and the Vengeance of the Gods, who sacrifice them as an Example to all Brethren that should be born in after Ages: And to shew the fatal effects of Discord, which separates those Hearts that ought to be so strictly united; you might see those Brothers full of Rage, tearing one another to pieces; each forgetting to defend his own Life, that he might take away that of his Brothers. They were both Bloody, dying of mortal Wounds, without the least Abatement of their Fury; both of 'em fallen to the Ground, and ready to breath their last; yet would crawl one towards another to have the Pleasure of dying in the last effort of Cruelty and Revenge. All

other Combats seem'd suspended at the sight of this. The two Armies were seiz'd with Horror and Con∣sternation at the sight of these two Monsters. Mars himself turn'd a∣side his cruel Eyes from such a hi∣deous sight. At last you might see the Flame of the funeral Pile, on which they placed the two Bodies of these unnatural Brothers. But what was strange to behold! the Flame parts it self in two, and Death it self could not put an end to the implacable Hatred of Eteocles and Po∣lynices. They would not burn to∣gether, and their Ashes, sensible of the Mischiefs they had done to one another, would never mingle. This was what Vulcan with his di∣vine Art, had represented upon the Arms which Minerva gave to Tele∣machus.

On the other side of the Shield, was represented Ceres in the fruitful Plains of Enna, which are situated in the middle of Sicily. There you

might see that Goddess assembling the Inhabitants, who were disper∣sed up and down to get wherewith∣al to sustain Nature, by Hunting, or gathering the wild Fruit, which had fall'n from the Trees. She taught those Savages to till the Ground, and to draw their Food from its plentiful Bosom. She shew'd them the Plough, and taught them to yoke the labouring Ox. You might see the Ground open in Fur∣rows, clest by the Plow-share; and afterwards you might perceive the Golden Harvest, covering the fruit∣ful Plains; and the Reaper with his Sickle cutting down the comsor∣table Fruits of the Ground, and thereby repaying his Labour. Iron, elsewhere the Instrument of Destru∣ction, was used here only to pro∣duce Plenty, and all sorts of Plea∣sure.

The Nymphs, crown'd with Garlands, dance together on the Banks of a River, hard by a Plea∣sant

Grove. Pan play'd on his Flute; the Fawns and wanton Sa∣tyrs frisk at a distance by themselves. Bacchus was likewise represented, crown'd with Ivy, leaning on his Spear, and holding in his Hand a Vine-branch, adorn'd with Leaves and Clusters of Grapes; his Beauty was fresh, with something in it lan∣guishing and passionate. In this manner it was, that he appeared to the Unfortunate Ariadne, when he found her alone and Forsaken, and overwhelm'd with Grief, on the Banks of a strange River. In fine, you might see on all Hands, a multitude of People; the Old Men carrying the First Fruits of their Harvest into the Temples; the Young Men wearied with Toil and Labour, returning home to their Wives, and these going out to meet them, with the young Pledges of their chaste Love in their Hands. There were likewise Shepherds represented; some singing, others dancing to the sound

of their Reed; all was Peace, Plen∣ty and Pleasure; and every thing look'd smiling and happy. You might see the Wolves play in the Pastures among the Sheep; and the Lyons laying aside their fierceness, were sporting among the tender Lambs, and the little Shepherd's Crook equally commanded them all. This lovely piece seem'd to bring to mind the Charms of the Golden Age.

Telemachus having put on his Di∣vine Armour, instead of his own took up Minerva's dreadful Shield, which she had sent him by Iris, the swift Messenger of the Gods; Ha∣ving without his Knowledge carried away his own Buckler, and left this in its room, which is formidable to the Gods themselves. In this Con∣dition he ran out of the Camp, to avoid its Flames: He call'd the chief Commanders with a strong Voice, which inspir'd new Courage in their routed Troops, who had given all

over for lost. The Eyes of the young Warriour sparkle with a divine Fire; he gives Orders with as much Cau∣tion, as an old Man ruling his Fa∣mily and instructing his Children, but executes them with all the promptness and vigour of Youth; like an impetuous River, that with its rapid Motion rouls along, not only its own frothy Billows, but with them the vessels of greatest Burthen that float upon it.

Philoctetes, Nestor, and the Com∣manders of the Mandurians, and other Nations, found in the Son of Ulysses certain unaccountable Au∣thority, which they all found them∣selves irresistibly oblig'd to submit to. The Aged trust no more to their Experience, and Counsel and Prudence forsook the commanders: Jealousy and Emulation, so natural to Mankind, are quite extinguish'd in their Minds. They all keep si∣lence; they all wonder at Telema∣chus, and stand ready to obey his

Orders implicitly; as if they had been accustom'd to do so. He ad∣vances, and from an Imminence ob∣serves the posture of the Enemy; and forthwith judg'd it necessary, with the utmost expedition, to sur∣prize them in their present Disor∣der, while they were burning the Camp of the Confederates. He fetch'd a compass with great Expe∣dition, and was followed by the most experienc'd Commanders. He attack'd the Daunians in the Rear, who doubted nothing of the Allies being involv'd in the Flames of their Camp. This surprize put them in great Disorder, and they fell under Telemachus's Hand, as the autum∣nal Leaves of the Forest, when a blust'ring North Wind, bringing back Winter, shakes all the Branches, and makes the very Trunks of an∣cient Trees groan. The Ground all about was covered with the Bo∣dies of those who had fall'n by Te∣lemachus's Hand. With his own

Lance he pierced the Heart of Iphycles, the youngest Son of Adrastus, who had the boldness to offer him Combat, to save his Father's Life, who was in danger of being sur∣priz'd by Telemachus. These young Combatants were both of them Comely, Vigorous, full of Address and Courage; of the same Stature, the same Age, had the same sweet∣ness of Temper, and were equally belov'd by their Parents. But Iphycles prov'd like a full blown Flower in a Meadow, cut down by the Sithe of the Mower. Afterwards Telemachus overthrew Euphorion, the most ce∣lebrated of all the Lydians, that came into Etruria. At last with his Sword he slew Cleomenes, who being late∣ly Married, had promised his Spouse, to bring her the rich Spoils of the War, or never to return himself. Adrastus foam'd with Rage to see the Death of his son, and of many other Commanders, and the Victo∣ry snatch'd out of his Hands. Pha∣lanthus,

almost knock'd down at his Feet, was like a half-slain Victime, who had escap'd the edge of the sa∣cred Knife, and had fled from the Altar. Adrastus had well nigh com∣pleated the ruin of Lacedemonian Phalanthus, drown'd in his own Blood, and that of the Soldiers that Fought with him. When he heard the shooting of Telemachus coming up to his relief, in that Moment he gets new Life; and the Cloud that had already over-spread his Eyes is dissipated. The Daunians at this un∣expected Attack, leave Phalanthus, to make head against a more formi∣dable Enemy. Adrastus seem'd like a Tiger, from whom a Body of Shepherds have snatch'd the Prey which he was ready to devour. Te∣lemachus sought him out in the Crowd, endeavouring by one stroke to put an end to the War, by deli∣vering the Allies from their im∣placable Enemy; But Jupiter grudg∣ed

the Son of Ulysses, so quick and easie a Victory: And Minerva too had a mind to inure him to Troubles, that he might the better understand how to Reign. Therefore the im∣pious Adrastus was preserv'd by the Father of the Gods, that Telemachus might have opportunity to acquire more Glory, and exercise his Vir∣tue. A Storm summon'd by Jupi∣ter, sav'd the Daunians; a terrible Thunder proclaim'd the Will of the Gods. You would have thought that the eternal Vaults of the high Olympus had been ready to tumble down upon the Heads of weak Mor∣tals; the Flashes of Lightning split the Clouds from Pole to Pole; and from the moment that they ceas'd to dazle the Eyes with their darting Flame, all was over-spread with Midnight Darkness. The Rain falling in great abundance separated the two Armies. Thus Adrastus took advantage of the assistance of the Gods, without being mov'd with

a sense of their Power: And for his Ingratitude, deserved to be kept for a more dreadful Vengeance. He made haste to march his Army between the Camp that was half burnt down, and a Morass that reacht as far as the River. The Ex∣pedition with which he made his Retreat, sufficiently demonstrated his ready Invention and Presence of Mind. The Allies animated by the Valour of Telemachus, would have pursu'd him; but by the favour of the Storm he escap'd, as a swift∣wing'd Bird out of the Net of the Fowler. The Allies now thought of nothing but re-possessing their Camp, and repairing their Da∣mages: In entring it, they saw the woful Effects of War; the Sick and Wounded not being able to crawl out of their Tents, or to save them∣selves from the Fire, appear'd half burnt, sending up towards Heaven their doleful Shrieks and dying Groans. It struck Telemachus to the

Heart, nor was he able to contain his Tears: Oft did he turn aside his Eyes, being seiz'd with Horror and Compassion: He could not without groaning, behold these Bodies that remain'd still alive, and destin'd to a long and painful Death. They look'd like the Flesh of Victims, roasted on Altars, whose Smell dif∣fuses it self all a-round. Alass! cry'd Telemachus, behold the Mischiefs that attend War! What blind Fury pu∣shes on unhappy Mortals? Their Days are so short, and the Misery that attends them so great: Why do they hasten the Fate that is al∣ready so near? Why will they add so many Troubles and Afflictions, to the Bitterness which the Gods have mingled with this short Life? Men are all Brethren, and yet they tear one another more cruelly than the savage Beasts. Lyons never make War with Lyons, nor Tygers with Tygers, but exercise their Cruelty upon Creatures of a different Kind.

Man alone, in despite of his Reason, does that which Beasts, that are void of it, would never have done. But still, why such Wars? Is there not Ground in the World enough to employ the Labour of all Mankind? How much of it lies desert? More than all Mankind is sufficient to re∣plenish. What is it then that makes Princes spread the Flames of War over vast Kingdoms and Countries? A false Idea of Glory, an empty Ti∣tle of Conqueror. Thus one Man, whom the Gods in their Anger have sent into the World, render so ma∣ny Men miserable: To satisfie his Ambition and Vanity, all must be ruin'd; all must swim in Blood, be destroy'd by Fire; and those who escape the Fire and Sword, must pe∣rish by more cruel Want. In a word, one Man sports himself with human Nature, involves all in uni∣versal Desolation to gratifie his Hu∣mour and Vain-glory.

What monstrous Ambition is this? Can we sufficiently abhor and detest enough such Men, who have forgot all Humanity? No sure, so far are they from being Demi-Gods, that they are to be reckon'd below Men: Their Memory ought to be accursed through all those Ages, in which they thought to have been admir'd. Oh! with how much de∣liberation ought Princes to weigh the War they undertake! They ought to be just: Nor is that e∣nough, they ought to be Necessary. The Blood of the People ought not to be spilt, but for their Preserva∣tion, in the greatest Extremity: But the Counsels of Elatterers, a false Notion of Greatness, ground∣less Jealousies, and unreasonable Co∣vetousness, cover'd with specious Pretexts, do insensibly engage Prin∣ces in Wars, which render them∣selves unhappy, make them hazard all when there is no necessity, and in the end prove equally fatal to

their Subjects and Enemies. Thus did Telemachus reason; but he did not rest content in deploring the Mise∣ries of War, but endeavour'd to mi∣tigate them. You might see him visiting the sick and expiring Sol∣diers in their Tents, scattering Mo∣ney and Medicines among them, comforting and encouraging them by his Discourses, which were full of Friendship and Tenderness, and sending others when he could not visit them himself. Among the Cre∣tans that were with him, there were two old Men; one of them were call'd Traumaphilus, the other Nozo∣fugus: Traumaphilus had been at the Siege of Troy with Idomeneus, and had learn'd from the Sons of Escu∣lapius the Divine Art of curing Wounds: He had an odoriferous Liquor which he injected into the deepest and most envenomed Wounds, that consum'd all the rot∣ten and dead Flesh, without being forc'd to make Incisions, causing new

Flesh to grow, more sound and more beautiful than the former. As for Nozofugus, he had never seen the Sons of Esculapius, but by the means of Meriones, he had procured a sacred and mysterious Book, which Escu∣lapius had given his Sons: And be∣sides, Nozofugus was a Favorite of the Gods: He had compos'd Hymns in honour of the Children of Latona: And every day sacrific'd a white Sheep, without blemish, to Apollo, by whom he was oftentimes inspir'd: He no sooner saw a sick Person, than he could tell by his Eyes, his Com∣plection, the Disposition of his Bo∣dy, and the manner of his Breath∣ing, what the source of the Malady was: Sometimes he would give 'em sudorifick Remedies, which by their powerful Effects did demonstrate, how much Perspiration encreas'd or diminish'd, disorder'd or restor'd the Machine of our Body. In languish∣ing Distempers, he gave certain Drinks which by degrees re-esta∣blish'd

the noble Parts, and by sweetning the Blood, renew'd the Vigour of his Patients; but he often alledg'd, that it was the fault of their Virtue and Courage that made Men stand in need so often of Me∣dicines. It is a shame, said he, for Men to have so many Diseases; for good Health is the Product of a virtuous Life; their Intemperence, said he, changes into deadly Poison that wholsome Nourishment which was appointed for preserving their Life. Immoderate Pleasures do shor∣ten Mens days more than the best Remedies can prolong them. The short Allowance of the Poor pre∣serves their Health, while the Rich deprive themselves of it by their ex∣cess. Those Nourishments that gra∣tifie the Palate most, and which force Appetite, are a poisoning in∣stead of nourishing. Medicines in themselves are really mischievous and destroy Nature, and ought only to be used on pressing Occasions; but

the Sovereign Remedy that is always harmless, always useful, is Sobriety, Temperance in all our Pleasures, Tranquillity of Mind, and Exercise of the Body: This makes the Blood sweet and temperate, and dissipates all noxious and superfluous Hu∣mours. Thus the sage Nozofugus was less admir'd for his Medicines than he was for the Diet he pre∣scrib'd to prevent Diseases, and ren∣der Remedies effective.

These two Men were sent by Te∣lemachus to visit all the Sick in the Army: They cur'd many by their Remedies, but many more by the care they took to make them suc∣cessful; for they took care to keep them clean, and by that cleanness to prevent noisome Air; and made them observe an exact Sobriety, and a re∣gular Diet during their Cure. The Soldiers were all touch'd with a sense of this seasonable Relief, and thank'd the Gods for sending Tele∣machus into the Confederate Army.

This is, sure, no Mortal, say they, but some beautiful Deity, in human Shape; or if he is a Man, he is nearer a Kin to the Gods than the rest of Mankind, and is sent into the World only to do good. He is more to be belov'd for his Sweet∣ness and Bounty, than for his Va∣lour. O that we could have such a King! But the Gods have reserv'd him for a People more happy than we; whom they mind to cherish, and among whom they will renew the Golden Age. Telemachus, while he spent the Night in visiting the se∣veral Quarters of the Army to pre∣vent the Stratagems of Adrastus, heard these Commendations, which had not the least Suspicion of Flat∣tery. As he desir'd no other, so his Heart was mov'd at these, and he found that sweet and pure Pleasure, which the Gods have join'd to Vir∣tue alone, and which ill Men, be∣cause they have never experiment∣ed it, can neither conceive nor be∣lieve;

but could not remain fix'd in this sort of Pleasure; his for∣mer Faults came all thronging into his Mind: He did not forget his natural Haughtiness, nor his indiffe∣rent Behaviour towards other Men, and he was secretly asham'd that he was naturally harsh, and yet seem'd so human. He ascrib'd all the Glo∣ry that was bestow'd on him, and which he thought was above his Merit, to the Wisdom of Minerva. It is thou, O great Goddess, said he, that gave me Mentor for an In∣structor, and a Corrector of my evil Temper: It is thou that hast bles∣sed me with Wisdom to make ad∣vantage of my Escapes, and to dis∣trust my self: It is thou that re∣strain'st my impetuous Passions; and it is thou that makest me sensi∣ble of the Pleasure of relieving the Unhappy: Without thee I should be hated, and deservedly too: With∣out thee I should commit irrepara∣ble Faults, and be as a Child, who

being insensible of its own Weak∣ness, lets go the hold it hold it had of its Mother, and falls the very first step that it makes.

Nestor and Philoctetes were amaz'd to see Telemachus become so gentle, so courteous, so helpful, and so pro∣vident. They were puzled what to think; they saw him quite ano∣ther Man; and that which surpriz'd them more, was the great care he took about the Funeral of Hippias. He went in Person to bring his bloo∣dy and disfigur'd Body from the Place where it lay hid under a heap of dead Men: He shed pious Tears over him, and said, O Shade, thou know'st now how much I esteem'd thy Valour! 'Tis true, thy Haugh∣tiness did provoke me; but the heat of thy Youth was to blame for't; and I am not insensible how much that Age wants to be excus'd. We had at last been united in a sin∣cere Friendship; I was to blame:

O ye Gods, wherfore have ye ta∣ken him from me!

Telemachus afterwards caus'd the Body to be Wash'd with an odori∣ferous Liquor, and gave Orders con∣cerning the funeral Pile. The lofty Pines, groaning under the stroaks of the Ax, came tumbling down from the tops of the Mountains; the Oaks, those Antient Sons of the Earth, that seem'd to threaten Heaven; the tall Poplars, the young Elms with their verdant Tops, and thick leav'd Bran∣ches; the Beeches, the glory of the Forest, lay all fell'd on the River Galesus: There were they rais'd into a Pile, resembling a regular Building. The Flame began to ap∣pear, and a Pillar of Smoak mount∣ed up to the Heavens. The Lacede∣monians march'd with a slow and doleful pace, trailing their Pikes, and looking on the Ground; bitter Sor∣row stood painted on their War∣like Countenances, and the Tears trickl'd down in abundance. After

the rest, came the aged Pherecides, stooping not so much under the great number of his Years, as a load of Grieffor surviving Hippias, whom he had brought up from his very Infancy: He rais'd his Hands, and his Eyes that were drown'd in Tears, towards Heaven. Af∣ter the death of Hippias, he refus'd all manner of Food, nor could Sleep shut his Eye-lids, or suspend the smartness of his Pain for a Moment. With a trembling pace he walk'd af∣ter the Procession, not knowing whither he went; he was speech∣less, because his Heart was quite op∣press'd; his silence was the effect of Despair and Dejection. But no sooner did he see the Pile kindled, than he cry'd out in a fury, O Hip∣pias, Hippias! I shall never see thee again! Hippias is no more, and yet I live still! O my dear Hippi∣as! 'tis I that am the cause of thy Death; 'twas I that taught thee to despise it; I believ'd that thou

shouldst have shut my Eyes, and suck'd my last Breath. O ye cruel Gods! Why did ye prolong my days, only that I might see the death of Hippias? O my dear Child, that I have brought up with so much care, I shall see thee no more; but I shall see thy Mother, whom Grief will kill, and who will reproach me with thy Death; I shall see thy young Spouse beating her Breast, and pulling off her Hair, and I am the un∣happy cause. O dear Shade, call me to the Banks of Styx; for the Light is hateful to me, and 'tis thee only, my dear Hippias, that I wish to see. Hippias, Hippias! O my dear Hippias! I only live now to pay my last Duty to thy Ashes.

In the mean time, you might see the Body of young Hippias stretch'd out in a Coffin adorn'd with Purple, Gold and Silver; Death that had shut his Eyes was not able to deface all his Beauty, and the Graces ap∣pear'd still in his pale Face; Around

his Neck that was whiter than Snow, but now leaning on his Shoulder, his long black Hair did wave, finer than those of Atis and Ganimede; but which were now to be turn'd to Ashes. You might observe in his Side the deep Wound, through which all his Blood had run out, and which had sent him down into the gloomy Regions of Pluto. Telemachus, sad and dejected, follow'd the Corps at a little distance, strowing Flow∣ers. When they came to the Pile, the young Son of Ulysses could not endure to see the Flame seize on the Cloth in which the Body was wrapt, without shedding fresh Tears. A∣dieu, said he, O magnanimous Hip∣pias! For I dare not call thee Friend: Rest in quiet, O Shade, who hast merited so much renown! If I did not love thee I should envy thy Hap∣piness, who art free'd from those Miseries that accompany us and art retir'd by the Path of Honour. How happy should I be, if my End were

the same! May Styx ne're be able to stop thy Ghost; may thy Passage be easie into the Elysian Fields; may Fame preserve thy Name through∣out all Ages, and may thy Ashes rest in Peace. Scarce had he spoke these Words, which were interrupt∣ed with Sobs, when the Army gave a hideous shout; they were mov'd with grief for the loss of Hippias, they were recounting his great A∣ctions; and their Grief for his death, brought to their Minds all his good Qualities, and made them forget all those Failings, which the Heat of his Youth, or his bad Education had occasion'd: But they were more mov'd with the tender Affection that Telemachus had for him. Is this, said they, the young Greek, that was so Proud, so Haughty, so Dis∣dainful and untractable? See how gentle, how humane, how kind he's now become! Minerva, no doubt, who loved his Father so dearly, has had the same Passion for the Son;

doubtless she has bestow'd on him the most valuable Blessing that the Gods can give to Mortals, in afford∣ing him, together with Wisdom, a Heart sensible of Friendship.

By this time the Flame had con∣sum'd the Body. Telemachus, with his own Hands, besprinkl'd the Ash∣es that were yet smoaking, with a Liquor richly perfum'd; then put them into an Urn of Gold, which he crown'd with Garlands, and car∣ried to Phalanthus. He lay stretch'd out wounded in several places, and in the extremity of his Weakness, had a glimpse of the melancholy Gates of Death.

Traumaphilus and Nozofugus, whom the Son of Ulysses had sent to attend him, had try'd their ut∣most skill for his Relief. They had by degrees brought back his depart∣ing Soul; fresh Spirits began insen∣sibly to revive his Heart, and cre∣ate a penetrating Vigor: The Bal∣som of Life gliding from Vein to

Vein, had reach'd his Heart; a grateful warmth reviv'd his Limbs; but in the very Moment that the Swooning left him, Grief succeeded; for he began to be sensible of the Loss of his Brother, which, till then, he had not been in a condition to think of. Alas! said he, why all this care to save my Life? Had I not better die, and follow my dear Hip∣pias? I saw him fall hard by me: O Hippias! the comfort of my Life, my Brother, my dear Brother, thou art now no more! I can hereafter neither see thee, nor hear thee, nor embrace thee, nor comfort thee in thy Troubles, nor complain to thee of my own. O ye Gods, Enemies to Mankind! Must I forever be depriv'd of Hippias! Is it possible! is it not a Dream? No, it is real, O Hippias, I have left thee, I have seen thee die, and I must live till I have aveng'd thee; I will sacrifice to thy Ghost the Cruel Adrastus, who is stain'd with thy Blood.

While Phalanthus was thus speak∣ing, the two Divine Men used their utmost endeavour to appease his Grief, for fear it should increase his Disease, and frustrate the Effects of their Medicines: On a sudden he perceiv'd Telemachus, who came to see him. At first sight, two contra∣ry Passions were strugling in his Breast; he harbour'd a Resentment of what had pass'd between Telema∣chus and Hippias; his Grief for the loss of Hippias gave it an Edge; he could not forget that he owed the preservation of his Life to Telema∣chus, who rescu'd him out of the Hands of Adrastus, all bloody, and half dead. But when he saw the Golden Urn which inclos'd the Ash∣es of his dear Brother Hippias, he dissolv'd into Tears; he embrac'd Telemachus, without being able to speak: At last, with a languishing Voice, interrupted with Sighs, he said, O worthy Son of Ulysses, thy Virtue constrains me to love thee;

I owe thee the small remainder of my Life, and I owe thee also some∣thing that's more dear to me: Had it not been for thee, the Body of my Brother had been a Prey to the Vultures: Had it not been for thee, his Ghost, depriv'd of Sepulture, had wander'd in a miserable Condition, on the Banks of the River Styx, continually pusht back by the pi∣tiless Charon. Must I be so far in∣debted to one whom I mortally ha∣ted? Repay him, O ye Gods, and deliver me from this Miserable Life. And thou Telemachus, pay me the last Duty that thou hast paid to my Brother, that thy Glory may be compleat.

With these Words, Phalanthus was quite spent, and overwhelm'd with excess of Grief. Telemachus staid by him, but durst not speak, waiting till he should recover a little strength. Presently Phalanthus having come out of his Fit, takes the Urn out of the Hands of Telemachus; twenty times

he kiss'd it, and water'd it with his Tears, and said; O Dear, O Precious Ashes! When shall mine be inclos'd in the same Urn? O thou Ghost of Hippias! I will follow thee to the Shades below: Telemachus shall a∣venge us both.

In the mean time, Phalanthus re∣cover'd dayly by the watchful Care of these two Men, who understood the Art of Esculapius. Telemachus was always by them to quicken their Diligence for hastening the Cure; and all the Army was struck with Admiration at his Goodness in re∣leiving his greatest Enemy, more than at the Valour and Conduct which he shew'd in Battle, when he sav'd the Confederate Army. In the mean time Telemachus gave Proof how indefatigable he was in the greatest Hardships of War. He slept little, and his Sleep was often interrupted, either by the intelli∣gence he received, every Hour of the Night, as well as of the Day;

or by viewing all the Quarters of the Army, which he never did twice at the same Hours, that he might the better surprise those that were negligent. Oftentimes he return'd to his Tent, all over Sweat and Dust. His Diet was plain, being the same with that of the Soldiers, that he might set them a Copy of Sobriety and Patience. Provisions being scarce in that Encampment, he judg'd it necessary to prevent a Mu∣tiny of the Soldiers, voluntarily to share with them in their Hardships. His Body was so far from being weaken'd by that toilsom Life; that every Day it became Stronger and more hardned. He began to lose the tender Graces of his Face, which are, as 'twere, the bloom of Youth; his Complexion grew Browner and less Delicate, and his Limbs rougher and more nervous.

In the mean time, Adrastus, whose Troops had been considerably wast∣ed by the Battle, had posted himself

behind the Hill Aulon, to wait the coming of some Reinforcements, and to try whether he could once more surprise the Enemy; just like a famish'd Lyon, bauk'd of his Prey, returns to the shady Forest, and re-enters his Den, where he whets his Teeth and his Claws, and im∣patiently waits for a favourable Mi∣nute to destroy the whole Flock.

Telemachus having made it his chief Care to observe a strict Disci∣pline through the whole Army, he thought of nothing now but putting in execution a Design which he had already conceived, and which he had conceal'd from all the Comman∣ders in the Army. For a long time, during whole Nights, his Head had been fill'd with Dreams, that repre∣sented to him his Father Ulysses. This Image of Ulysses used always to return when Night was going away, and Aurora began with her dawning Light to chase the wan∣dring Stars from the Heavens; and

when soft Sleep began to compose the fluttering Dreams. Sometimes he would fancy that he saw him Naked in a fortunate Island, on the Banks of a River, in a pleasant Meadow bedeck'd with Flowers, and environ'd by Nymphs, who threw their Garments on him to cover him. Sometimes he thought he heard him Talking in a Palace, all glittering with Gold and Ivory, where Men, crown'd with Garlands, listen to him with Pleasure and Ad∣miration. At other times he would appear to him on a sudden in those Feasts, where Joy shines bright amidst Delights, and where you might hear the soft Harmony of a charming Voice with a Harp, more melodious than the Harp of Apollo, or the Voice of all the Muses.

Telemachus awaking, grew me∣lancholy at his pleasant Dream. O my Father! O my dear Father Vlys∣ses, cry'd he! The most frightful Dream had been more pleasant to

me. These Representations of Hap∣piness give me reason to believe that you are already gone down to the abode of blessed Souls, where the Gods reward their Virtue with eter∣nal Tranquillity. Methinks I see the Elysian Fields. O how hard a Thing is it to hope no more! What, O my dear Father! Shall I see thee no more, shall I embrace him no more who lov'd me so tenderly, and whom I have sought after with so much Labour and Toil? Shall I never hear Wisdom it self Speak out of thy Mouth? Shall I never again kiss those Hands, those dear, those victorious Hands, by whom so ma∣ny Enemies have fallen? Shall they never punish the foolish Lovers of Penelope, and must Ithaca for ever be Ruined?

O ye Gods, who are Enemies to my Father, ye have sent me this Dream to deprive me of all Hope; 'tis to deprive me of Life. No, I cannot live longer in this uncertain∣ty.

What do I say, Alass! No∣thing is more certain than that my Father is no more; I'll go find out his Ghost in the Shades below. Theseus succeeded in this Attempt: The impious Theseus, who durst offer Violence to the infernal Deities! As for me, a pious Motive carries me thither. Hercules hath descended there; I am no Hercules; but 'tis glorious to attempt to imitate him. Orpheus, by the relation of his Mis∣fortunes, did sensibly touch the Heart of the inexorable God, and obtain'd the return of Eurydice from thence. I have a juster Claim to Compassion than Orpheus, because my Loss is greater. Who can com∣pare a young Girle, not singular for her Beauty, to the sage Ulysses, ad∣mir'd by all Greece? Let us go, let us dye, if it must be so: Why should Death be so formidable, since Life is so miserable? O Pluto! O Proser∣pine! I'll try e'r it be long whether ye are as pitiless as ye are call'd. O

my Father! After all my fruitless Travel over Seas and Land to find you out, if the Gods deny me the Enjoyment of you on Earth, and in the Light of the Sun, I'll go try whether you are gone to the melan∣choly Abodes of the Dead. Perhaps they will not refuse me a sight of your Ghost in the Kingdom of Dark∣ness. While he was thus Speaking, Telemachus watered his Bed with his Tears; then he arose, to try whe∣ther by the Light he could mitigate the sharpness of his Sorrow that his Dream had occasion'd; but this was an Arrow that had pierced his Heart, and which he continually carried about with him. In this Anguish, he essay'd to descend into the infer∣nal Regions, by a famous Place not far remov'd from the Camp: It is call'd Acheron, because in this Place there is a dreadful Cave, by which you may go down to the Banks of Acheron, a River by which the Gods themselves are afraid to Swear.

The Town stood on a Rock, like a Nest in the top of a Tree. At the foot of the Rock was this Cavern to be seen, which fearful Mortals were afraid to approach. The chief care of the Shepherds was to turn away their Flocks from it: The sulphu∣reous Stams which the Stygian Lake incessantly cast forth through this Passage infected the Air. Around it grew neither Herb nor Flower: There no gentle Zephirs fann'd the Air: There you could neither see the blooming Graces of the Spring, nor the rich Blessings of Autumn: There the Ground was all dry and languishing; and there was nothing to be seen but a few Shrubs stript of their Leaves, and the fatal Cypress. All round for a great way, Ceres de∣nied the Labourers her Golden Har∣vests: In vain did Bacchus seem to promise his pleasant Fruits; the Grapes wither'd instead of ripen∣ing. The Sorrowful Nayades could not make the Water run pure; their

Streams were always bitter and mud∣dy. No warbling of Birds was to be heard in that Desert, that was all bristled with Bryers and Thorns; there was no Grove to shelter them, they went and sung their Loves in a gentler Air. Nothing was to be heard there but the croaking of Ra∣vens, and the melancholy Voice of the Owl: The very Herbs were bitter, and the Flocks that pass'd that way did not feed on that plea∣sant Pasture which used to make them skip: The Bull loath'd the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and the Shepherds forgot their Pipe and Flute.

Out of this Cavern, oftentimes, there issu'd forth a dark and thick Smoke, which made a sort of Night at Mid∣day. The neighbouring People redoubled their Sacrifices, to appease the Wrath of the infernal Gods; but oftentimes, Men in the flower of their Age, and in the bloom of their Youth, were the only Victims which these cruel Di∣vinities,

by a fatal Contagion, took Pleasure to Sacrifice.

It was here that Telemachus re∣solved to find out the way into the black Habitation of Pluto. Miner∣va, who always kept a watchful Eye over him, and had cover'd him with her Shield, had bespoke Pluto's Favour. Jupiter, at the Request of Minerva, had given Orders to Mer∣cury (who went down every Day to the Regions below, to deliver a cer∣tain number of Mortals into the Hands of Charon) to desire the King of Shades that he would allow the Son of Ulysses to enter into his Do∣minions.

Telemachus secretly withdrew out of the Camp by Night; he travel'd by the Light of the Moon, and in∣vok'd that powerful Deity, who in the Heavens appears a bright Star in the Night, on Earth is the chaste Diana, and in Hell is the dreadful Hecate. This Goddess vouchsafed him a favourable Ear, because his

Heart was upright, and because he was guided by the pious Love of a dutiful Son. Scarce had he approach'd the entry of the Cave, when he heard the bellowing of the subterra∣nean Empire. The Earth trembled under his Feet; the Heavens arm'd themselves with Lightning and Fire, that seem'd ready to fall down. The young Son of Ulysses was shock'd, and his whole Body was bedew'd with a cold Sweat; but his Cou∣rage supported him; he rais'd up his Eyes and his Hands towards Heaven. Ye great Gods, cry'd he, I accept this happy Omen: Com∣pleat your Work. This said, he re∣doubled his Pace, and went forward boldly. Presently the thick Smoke, which rendred the entry to the Ca∣vern fatal to all other Creatures that approach'd it, was dissipated; the poisonous Smell ceased for a while, and Telemachus entred alone; for what other Mortal durst follow him? Two Cretans who had accom∣panied

him to a certain distance from the Cave, and to whom he had entrusted his Design, stood Trembling and half Dead a great way from it, in a Temple, making their Vows, and despairing of ever seeing Telemachus again.

In the mean time, the Son of Ulysses, with his Sword in his Hand, plunges himself in horrible Darkness. Pre∣sently he perceiv'd a dim and faint Light, such as we see in the Night Time on Earth. He observ'd the airy Ghosts fluttering about him, whom he warded off with his Sword. Not long after, he came in sight of the melancholy brink of the marshy River, whose muddy and stagnant Waters turn in a continual Whirl∣pool. He discover'd upon the Banks of it an innumerable crowd of de∣parted Souls who had been depriv'd of Sepulture, making their fruitless Addresses to the pitiless Charon. This Deity, whose perpetual old Age made him morose and fretful, re∣turn'd

them nothing but Threats and Refusals; but at first sight re∣ceiv'd the young Greek aboard his Boat. Telemachus had no sooner en∣tred than he heard the mournful Groans of a certain disconsolate Ghost. What is the cause, pray, said he, of your Misery; what was you on Earth? I was, reply'd the Ghost, Nabopharzan, King of proud Babylon; all the Eastern Nations trembled at the sound of my Name. I made the Babylonians pay divine Honours to me in a Temple of Mar∣ble, where I was represented by a Statue of Gold; before which, night and day, the most precious Perfumes of Ethiopia were burnt; none ever contradicted me unpunish'd; new Pleasures were daily invented to sweeten my Life; I was then young and vigorous. What Pleasure was there that I did not taste while I sat on the Throne? But an ungrateful Woman, whom I dearly lov'd, convinc'd me that I was not a God;

she has poison'd me, and I am no more. Yesternight my Ashes were, with great Solemnity, put into an Urn of Gold; they cry'd, they tore off their Hair, and seem'd as if they would throw themselves into the Flames of my Pile, and share in my death: Some are going still to mourn at the Foot of the magnifi∣cent Tomb where my Ashes were laid; but no body does really re∣gret my Loss: My Memory is ab∣horr'd by my own Family, and here below I am already expos'd to the most dreadful Reproaches.

Telemachus, mov'd at this sight, said to him: But were you truly happy during your Reign? Were you sensible of that calm and gentle Peace, without which the Heart re∣mains always, as 'twere, withred and shrunk up amidst the greatest Pleasures? No, reply'd the Babylo∣nian, I don't so much as know what you mean. The Sages boast of this Peace, as the only Good; but for

my part, I never felt it: My Soul was incessantly agitated with new desires, with fear and with hope: I endeavour'd to intoxicate my self with the tumultuous Motion of my Passions; I was careful to entertain this Frenzy, to make it lasting; the shortest interval of calm Reason had been bitter. Behold, this was the Peace that I enjoy'd; all other seem'd a meer Trifle and a Dream; these are the Blessings that I regret. While the Babylonian was thus speak∣ing, he wept like one of a mean Spi∣rit, soften'd by Prosperity, and who had never been accustom'd to bear Misfortunes with Constancy. There were hard by him certain Slaves, who had been slain to grace his Fu∣neral. Mercury had deliver'd them to Charon with their King, and had given them absolute Power over him whom they had serv'd on Earth. The Ghosts of these Slaves stood now no more in awe of the Ghost of Nabopharzan; they kept him in

Chains, offering him the most cruel Indignities. One would say to him, Were not we Men as well as you? How camest thou to be so stupid as to fancy thy self a God, and not ra∣ther remember that thou were Cast in the same Mould with other Men? Another insultingly would tell him, Thou had'st reason not to pass for a Man, being a Monster, void of all Humanity. Another would say to him, Well, where are all thy Flat∣terers now? Thou hast now no∣thing to bestow, poor Wretch; 'tis not in thy Power to do any more Mischief; behold thou art now be∣come a Slave to thy own Slaves. The Gods are slow in executing Ju∣stice, but at length they have done it. At these hard words he fell flat on his Face, tearing his Hair, in an excess of Rage and Despair. But Charon call'd to the Slaves; Pull him by his Chain, raise him up in spite of his Teeth; he shan't so much as have the comfort to hide his Shame:

All the Ghosts about Styx must bear witness to justifie the Gods who suf∣fer'd this impious Wretch to Reign so long upon Earth. This is, O Babylonian, but the beginning of thy Sorrow; prepare thy self to be judg'd by the inflexible Minos. Before dreadful Charon had well ended his Discourse, his Boat had touch'd the Borders of Pluto's Empire. The Ghosts came all flocking together to view this living Man, that appear'd among the dead in the Boat; but no sooner had the Foot of Telema∣chus touch'd the Land, than they all fled; just as the Shades of Night are dissipated by the first glimpse of the Day. Charon looking on the young Greek with a smooth Face, and less fierceness in his Eyes than usual, said, O Mortal! belov'd by the Gods, since thou art allow'd to enter the Kingdom of Night, inaccessible to all living, make hast to go where the Destinies call thee; go through this gloomy Path to the Palace of

Pluto, whom you will find on his Throne; he will permit you to en∣ter those Places, the Secrets of which he will not allow me to discover. Telemachus forth with advancing with a swift Pace, was surrounded by multitudes of fluttering Ghosts, in∣numerable as the Sands on the Shoar; and amidst the hurry of this num∣berless Multitude, he was seiz'd with a Divine Horrour, observing the profound Silence of these vast Places. His Hair stood on end, so soon as he approach'd the gloomy Abode of the pitiless Pluto; his Knees trem∣bled, his Voice fail'd him, and it was with much ado that he could utter these words: You see, O ter∣rible Divinity! The Son of the un∣happy Ulysses; I come to enquire of you, whether my Father is descend∣ed into your Dominions, or if he is wandring still on Earth.

Pluto was seated on a Throne of Ebony; his Countenance look'd pale and severe, his Eyes were hollow

and sparkling, his Face wrinkled and threatning: The Sight of a liv∣ing Man was as odious to him, as the Light is offensive to the Eyes of those Creatures that are accustom'd to lurk in their Retreats till the ap∣proach of Night. By his side ap∣pear'd Proserpine, who was his only pleasing Object, and who seem'd in some measure to soften his Heart: She enjoyed a Beauty that was al∣ways fresh; but her Divine Graces seem'd sullied a little by something harsh and cruel that was borrowed from her Spouse. At the Foot of the Throne was pale and devouring Death, with his sharp-edg'd Sithe, which he whetted incessantly. A∣bout him flew, black Cares, cruel Jealousies, Revenges, glutted with Blood, and full of Wounds; unjust Hatreds, Covetousness, gnawing it self; Despair, tearing it self with its own Hands; furious Ambition, that puts all in Confusion; Treason, that feeds upon Blood, and cannot enjoy

the Fruits of its Wickedness; Envy, that darts its deadly Venom all round her, and who frets and rages when she's unable to hurt; Impiety, that has digg'd a bottomless Pit, and des∣perately thrown her self head-long into it; the hideous Spectres; the Phantomes, that assume the shape of the Dead to frighten the Living; the frightful Dreams and Watchings that are as tormenting as those. With all these dire Spectres was the haughty Pluto environ'd, and with these were his Palace fill'd. He an∣swer'd Telemachus, with a hollow Voice, that made the bottom of He∣brus roar: Young Mortal, said he, thy Destiny hath made thee violate this sacred Refuge of the Ghosts; follow thy Destiny; for me, thou shalt never know where thy Father is; 'tis enough thou art free to go look for him; since he has been a King upon Earth, thou hast no more to do but to traverse one part of dark Tartarus, where the wicked

Kings are punish'd; and on the o∣ther, the Elysian Fields where the good Ones are rewarded. But you cannot pass from hence to the Elysian Fields, till you have gone through Tartarus; make hast thither, and get ye out of my Dominions.

Forthwith Telemachus seem'd to fly through those empty and im∣mense Spaces; he was so eager to know if he should see his Father, and to remove himself from the Pre∣sence of that horrible Tyrant, dread∣ful both to the Living and Dead. He quickly found himself on the Borders of gloomy Tartarus; from which there arose a black and thick Smoke, whose infectious Stink would have brought present Death with it, if it had reach'd the Abodes of the Living. This Smoke cover'd a River of flaming Fire; the noise of which, resembling that of the most impetuous Torrents, when they throw themselves down the highest Mountains into the bottom

of a Gulf, struck those almost deaf that entred those dismal Places.

Telemachus, secretly animated by Minerva, undauntedly entred this A∣byss; at first sight he perceiv'd a great number of Men, who had liv'd in a very mean Condition, and who were punish'd for having heap'd up Riches by Fraud, Treachery and Cruelty. He observ'd there Swarms of impious Hypocrites, who made a Shew of Religion, to serve them for a pretext to cover their Ambition, and to impose upon the Credulous. These Men who had abus'd Virtue it self, (the greatest Blessing that the Gods can bestow) were punish'd as the most execrable of all Mankind. The Children who had kill'd their Fathers or Mothers; the Wives who had embrew'd their Hands in the Blood of their Husbands; the Tray∣tors who had abandon'd their Party, after they had violated their most solemn Oaths, underwent a more gentle Punishment than those Hy∣pocrites.

Such was the Sentence of the three Infernal Judges, and this was their Reason: It was, because the Hypocrites, not thinking it e∣nough to be ill, as the rest of the Wicked, would pass for good Men, and by their counterfeit Virtue, make People afraid to trust those that were really so. The Gods, whom they mock'd, and made despicable in the Eyes of Men, take Pleasure to exer∣cise their Power in revenging this Affront.

Near to these, appear'd another sort of Men, whom the Vulgar do not believe very culpable, but whom the divine Vengeance punishes with∣out Mercy. These are the Ungrate∣ful, the Layars, the Flatterers, who commend Vice; the malicicious Censurers, who endeavour to fully the brightest Virtue; in fine, those who have rashly past Sentence, be∣fore they consider'd things to the bot∣tom, and by that means wrong'd the Reputation of the Innocent; but of

all Ingratitudes, that is punish'd as the blackest which one is guilty of against the Gods. What, says Minos, one is reputed a Monster, that fails in his Acknowledgments to his Fa∣ther, or to his Friend, from whom he has receiv'd assistance; and yet Men glory in their Ingratitude to∣wards the Gods, of whom they hold Life, and all the Blessings that at∣tend it. Do not we owe our Be∣ing to them more than to our Pa∣rents, of whom we are Born? and the more such Crimes go unpunish'd upon Earth, the more they become the Object of implacable Vengeance here below.

Telemachus seeing the three Judges sitting to pass Sentence upon a Man, took the boldness to ask what were his Crimes. Immediately the Cri∣minal taking upon him to Answer, cry'd out, I never did any Evil; on the contrary, I placed my greatest Happiness in doing good: I have always been Generous, Liberal, Just,

Complaisant, what have they then to object? To which Minos an∣swer'd, we have nothing to reproach thee with, in respect of Men; but didst not thou owe them far less than to the Gods? Where is then that Justice of which thou bragst so much? Thou hast fail'd in nothing towards Men, who are indeed no∣thing themselves: Thou hast been vertuous, but thou mad'st thy Vir∣tue subservient only to thy self, and not to the Gods who gave it thee: Thou hadst a mind to enjoy alone, the Fruits of thy Virtue, and mad'st it center in thy self; thou hast been thy own Divinity; but the Gods, who made all things for themselves, could not renounce their Right; and as thou didst forget them, they will forget thee, and deliver thee over to thy self: Since for thy self thou li∣vedst and not for them. Find there∣fore, if thou can'st at present, Con∣solation in thy own Mind: Lo! thou art now for ever separated from

the Company of Men, whom thou studiest so much to please; thou art now alone with thy self, thy own Idol. Learn, that there is no true Virtue, without the reverence and love of the Gods, to whom we owe all: Thy counterfeit Virtue, which for so long has blinded the Eyes of credulous Mankind, shall be now expos'd: Mankind judging of Vir∣tue or Vice only with respect to his own conveniency, is blind both as to Good and Evil. But here a divine Light repeals their rash Sentences; condemning what they have ad∣mir'd, and justifying what they have condemn'd.

At these Words, the Philosopher, as 'twere, Thunder-struck, could not now be reconcil'd to himself: The Pleasure which he took former∣ly in contemplating his Moderation, Courage, and generous Inclinations, were now turn'd into Despair. The sight of his own Heart, so treache∣rous to the Gods, was now punisht

enough: He saw himself, nor could he refrain from the odious sight: He saw the Vanity of the Opinion of Men, whom in all his Actions, he studied so much to please. There was a compleat Revolution of eve∣ry thing within him, as if all his Bowels had been turn'd topsy-tur∣vey. He was no more the same Man; his Heart fail'd him; his Consci∣ence, formerly so peaceable, rises up against him, and outragiously re∣proaches him with his sham Virtues, which had not either for their Be∣ginning or End the Worship of the Gods. He is in Confusion, Con∣sternation, full of Shame, Remorse, and Despair. The Furies did not torment him, because it sufficed to let him alone to himself; his own Heart sufficiently aveng'd the Gods whom he had contemn'd: Since he could not shun himself, he sought out the obscurest Places to hide him∣self from others: He courted Dark∣ness, but could not find it; officious

Light pursues him every where. E∣very where the piercing Rayes of Truth revenge his Contempt of her. What he lov'd formerly, now be∣comes hateful, as being the source of all his endless Miseries. He said within himself, O Fool that I am, I have neither known the Gods, nor my self; no, I have been ignorant of every thing, since I never lov'd the only and true Good: All my Steps have been out of the Way; my Wisdom was Folly, my Virtue was nothing but an Impious and Foolish Pride, for I was always my own Idol.

At last Telemachus observ'd those Kings that were punish'd for having abus'd their Power; on one hand a revengeful Fury presented a Mirrour, which shew'd them the deformity of their Vices. There they saw, and could not hinder themselves from seeing their undisguis'd Vanity, greedy of silly Flattery; their hard∣heartedness towards Men, for whose

Happiness they were made; their in∣sensibility of Virtue, their fear of Truth, and Inclination for base Men and Flatterers; their want of Application, their Effeminacy, their Laziness, their Jealousie, their Pride, their excessive Magnificence, found∣ed upon the Ruins of their Subjects; their Ambition to purchase Vain∣Glory with the Blood of their People. In fine, their Cruelty, which seeks out new Pleasures, amidst the Tears and Despair of so many unhappy Wretches.

In this Mirrour, they saw them∣selves continually, more terrible and monstrous than the Chimer a that was vanquish'd by Bellerophon, or the Hydra of Lerna, that was de∣stroy'd by Hercules; yea than Cer∣berus himself, though he Vomits from his three gaping Throats black and poisonous Blood, capable to infect the whole Race of Mortals living upon Earth.

At the same time, on the other hand, another Fury did insultingly repeat the nauseous Praises that their Flatterers had bestow'd upon them while alive; and presented another Mirror, where they appear'd such as they were Painted by Flattery. The opposition of these Portraits so con∣trary, was the Punishment of their Vanity: It was observable that the most wicked of these Kings, were such as during their Life had receiv'd the most magnificent Prai∣ses, because the Evil are more dread∣ed than the Good; and they exact without shame, the base Flatteries of the Poets and Orators of their time. You might hear them groan in their profound Darkness, where they can see nothing but the Insults and De∣risions which they are destin'd to suf∣fer. They have none about them, but such as oppose, contradict, and expose them. Whereas on Earth they sported themselves with the Lives of Men, and pretended that

all was made for their Service; in Tartarus, they are deliver'd over to the Caprice of certain Slaves, who make them feel in their turn, the Miseries of cruel Bondage. Their Slavery is painful, and there remains no Hope of ever being able to miti∣gate their Captivity: Under the lash of these Slaves, now become their Merciless Tyrants, they seem'd like the Anvil under the Hammer of the Cyclops, when Vulcan makes them work in the burning Furnaces of Mount AEtna.

There Telemachus perceiv'd pale, hideous and melancholy Countenan∣ces arising from Black Grief, that gnaws these Criminals: They ab∣hor themselves, and yet they can no more deliver themselves from this Horror than their very Nature; they want no other Chastisement of their Crimes, than their Crimes themselves; which they incessantly contemplate with their most aggra∣vating Circumstances: They pre∣sent

themselves to them like hor∣rible Spectres pursuing them; to defend themselves from them, they call for a Death more powerful than that which separated them from their Bodies; a Death that can extinguish in them all Sense and Thought. They call to the Deeps to swallow them, that they may be snatch'd from the revenging Beams of tor∣menting Truth. But in vain, for they are reserved for Vengeance, that drops upon them leasurely, and will never be exhausted. The Truth which they were afraid to see, now becomes their Punishment; they see it, but whilst it flies in their Faces, the sight of it puts them beside themselves: 'Tis like the Thunder, which without hurting the Out-side, penetrates into the inmost parts of the Bowels. The Soul melts in this revenging Fire, as Metal in a burning Furnace. Its texture is destroy'd, and yet there is nothing consum'd: It dissolves it to the

very first Principles of Life, and yet it can never die. They are tied to themselves, and can find neither Ease nor Comfort for the least Mi∣nute. They subsist only by their re∣venge upon themselves, and De∣spair, which makes them furious. Among so many Objects which made his Hair stand, Telemachus saw several of the Ancient Kings of Lydia punish'd for having pre∣ferr'd the Pleasures of a voluptu∣ous Life to that of Application; which ought to be inseparable from Royalty, in order to procure the Ease of their People.

The End of the Fourth Volume.